World of Mine
by Rosebark
Summary: When Kagome publishes an article in retaliation to the government, even she couldn’t have predicted the consequences it would bring about, involving a grim ex-serial killer and the twisted dealings of a government that had long lost its purpose.
1. What Came Before

Summary- When Kagome publishes an article in retaliation to the government, even she couldn't have predicted the consequences it would bring about. Now, stuck working with a grim ex-serial killer for a secret organization that refuses to disclose its true purpose even to its own work force, her life couldn't have become more twisted. With conspiracy after conspiracy, secret after secret, and murder by the minute, its going to take all of her wits, as well as a reluctant partnership with her partner, to not only stay alive, but to also uncover the haunting truth behind their organization.

* * *

**Chapter 1: What Came Before **

The young woman straightened out her gray suit as she emerged from the backseat of the sedan, brushing invisible dust particles from it.

After ensuring that the supplies in her purse were present, she stood up and signaled to the driver still inside the car. A moment later, a man clad in a black suit with matching hat and sunglasses emerged from the front seat. Only the pale skin of his neck and chin were in view.

"You're in this with me, alright?" the woman addressed him softly as he took his place beside her, then leaned over and whispered something imperceptible into his ear.

He showed no response aside from a nearly unperceivable tilt of the head, moving to follow as she cut a brisk path towards the colossal-sized, red brick building enclosed behind a twenty-feet high iron fence.

She stopped in front of the gate, taking a deep breath while organizing her thoughts in preparation for the ordeal before her. The man beside her cleared his throat significantly, to which she responded with some irritated throat clearing of her own.

"I'm ready," she muttered shortly after that, more to herself than her companion.

She approached a black intercom that was set into the wall, pushing the ring button. A moment later, a woman's crisp voice came through.

"Welcome to the Mansuor House. What business do you have?"

"This is Tashiko Kanno. I'm here for the Rep meeting," the woman responded.

The voice on the intercom paused a moment before continuing, "Very well, Ms. Kanno. Please enter the gate. An escort will be awaiting you at the front door."

The said woman stepped through the iron gate as it automatically swung open, followed closely by the man beside her. They walked up the sloping pathway that led to the house.

Close up, the towering size and splendor of the house was even more impressive. Four massive pillars framed the wide front porch of the building, lending their support to a balcony situated directly above two solid oak doors. Before they even had a chance to knock, the doors swung open, revealing a young woman with black hair and rather feral red eyes.

"Ms Kanno?" she asked, then continued on at the affirmative nod she received. "Welcome. My name is Kara, and I shall be your escort to the meeting room. Do come in." Her friendly facade could not mask the coldness of her gaze, matched by blood red lips that sneered slightly as she regarded the two.

They followed her warily into a cavernous hall. Upon the walls hung dozens of mounted animal heads, whose dull eyes peered at their visitors. Aside from that, the hallway lay empty, wooden floors polished to a gleam.

The said Ms. Kanno flashed a quick smile, then bowed to Kara. "Thank you for your aide. I am Tashiko Kanno, and this is my chauffeur. It's a pleasure to be here."

Kara bowed stiffly back. "We're glad you could come. Most of the others have already arrived. I'll lead you to them." She turned, then began down the hall, until they reached a large stairway.

She spoke lightly as she walked, covering the history of the house.

"Mansuor House has hosted a number of our country's leaders. It was purchased and refurbished by one of them, who then donated it to the government to hold such meetings."

"Really?" Tashiko replied. "It's a lovely structure. Beautiful surroundings as well; it's rare to find country areas like this these days."

"Safe and secluded they say," Kara responded, a gleam flashing through her eyes. The man beside Tashiko angled his head at her for a brief, nearly imperceptible second.

She led them to a flight of steps leading underground. "This is as far as he may go," she said, motioning to the man who had been silent thus far.

Tashiko nodded, even as the man beside her stiffened. "Very well then." she turned to him, pausing ever so slightly.

"See you later," she said shortly, her voice firm yet imbued with a secret only he managed to catch.

He regarded her wordlessly, eyes still hidden beneath the wide-brim of his hat, then inclined his head slightly.

Without a word, he walked back towards the gate.

Tashiko proceeded to turn her back from him to face Kara, then cheerily announced, "Let's continue, shall we?"

Kara simply nodded, stepping quickly down the stone steps. To the left stood a large metal door. After glancing back to ensure that the man had disappeared, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a chain of keys.

She stuck one in, spinning it a quarter clockwise before an audible _click_ was heard. Gingerly, she twisted the knob, parting the oaken door slightly. "After you," she invited the other woman, eyes glinting ominously.

"Thank you," Tashiko replied as she slid through the opening. Kagura followed, then immediately shut the door again.

"Self-locking. It's imperative that privacy is maintained at all times. Too many spies trying to get in these days." Kara stepped forward into the room, a library by appearance. Shelf after shelf lined the walls, each containing countless tomes of books.

"Wow," Tashiko breathed. "Quite a large collection you have here."

Kara shrugged. "Tell that to the owner. I'm just the caretaker." She cast a furtive glance at the woman beside her, examining her intently. "You're a bit younger than I expected."

The woman smiled softly, amused blue eyes peering into harsh red. "Is that bad?"

Kara smirked back. "No. Just wondering how someone who couldn't be a year older than me could be a national Rep."

Tashiko quirked an eyebrow. "And I was just wondering how someone your age could have been entrusted with the control of such a secure site."

Cold amusement sparked in the woman's eyes. "Consider it a 'family duty'," Kara answered lightly, turning her back to the other girl.

They continued in silence for a short while, heading towards the far end of the room where the older texts were kept, then stopped just before a shelf with particularly ragged tomes, each appearing altogether dull and unremarkable. Kara paused to the left of it, then tapped a spot on the wall.

Instantly, a black probe emerged from beneath the tapped area. She searched for the chain of keys in her pocket again, pulling it out and then selecting a tiny, pick-shaped rod. She inserted it into the probe, gave a twist, then sharply yanked it out again. This time, a square metal box was revealed behind the plastered wall. It was only after a series of grayish bands began wriggling across its surface that Tashiko realized it was a compact screen.

Kara adjusted the black probe, then faced Tashiko again. "I can't allow you to proceed any further without confirming your identity. So if you'll please, simply say our pass code into the microphone."

The young woman nodded, stepping to where the black probe was directly in front of her mouth. She took a deep breath, then clearly recited, "_Mundas vult decipi_... the world wants to be deceived."

She stepped back immediately after finishing, and Kara moved to stand where she had been. "Confirmed," she added to the microphone. Immediately, the black probe retreated back inside its nest, and the screen flashed to life. Tashiko tried to catch a glimpse of what appeared upon it, but Kara's back effectively blocked the screen.

"Hmm..." the black-eyed woman murmured, then immediately switched it off. She glanced quickly back at the other woman and smiled broadly.

"Come on then," Kara ordered rather brusquely, walking rapidly towards the far corner of the library. "To the headquarters," she declared, entering a series of numbers into a keypad to the side of the final shelf. "After you," Kara motioned, a trace of a smile appearing on her lips as the shelf slid to the side.

Tashiko seemed to undergo a brief internal debate as she glanced at dark entryway. "Just like the movies, isn't it?" she said in a falsely cheery voice.

"Uh-huh. Just like them," Kara replied, the smile stretching wider.

Tashiko smiled weakly, then stepped into the darkness. She heard the shelf re-close with a slight thump, enveloping them in complete silence. Try as she might, she couldn't make out anything more than a foot away from her in the poor lighting. The sound of Kara's footsteps had disappeared altogether, and her previously inhibited feelings of unease returned full force.

Without warning, panels of lights erupted full-force, illuminating the immense, unfurnished space. Kara had reappeared and stood before her with a scrutinizing glare. Her smile was now oddly disturbing, and the almost predatory gaze of her onyx eyes was frightening.

"So this is headquarters?" Tashiko asked, taking a chance to survey the room. It was completely empty and slightly imposing. The concrete floor, ceiling, and walls were all a dark shade of gray. She stood in the middle of what appeared to be an amphitheater, a circular region surrounded on all sides by an elevated row of stone. She thought she heard a slight crick, but nothing was in sight.

Kara's grin widened. "No."

Tashiko's eyes were now wide with confusion. "Then where are we?"

"You're about to find out." Kara took a few steps forward, advancing on the diminutive stature of the woman before her. "Tell me...who are you?"

"I thought we had already made that clear," the younger woman said with a frown. "Tashiko Kanno of course."

"No..I mean who you really are." A dangerous glint had risen to Kara's eyes.

The once-presumed Tashiko froze, a slight amount of fear growing in her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. I am Tashiko Kanno."

Kara's gaze didn't falter an inch, and rather than backing off, continued advancing. "You're stubborn, but please save us time and give up."

The woman before her trembled slightly, a crestfallen expression briefly marring her clear features before being replaced with renewed vigor. "How did you realize I wasn't her?" she asked calmly, examining the woman before her.

Kara surveyed her in amusement. "Had you have done your research properly, you would have known that we keep audio files of the voice tones of all of our members in the database. And while you cleverly managed to attain hold of our password, your voice didn't match the recording for Tashiko Kanno."

Surprisingly, rather than falling dejectedly as predicted, the girl's face strengthened. "Alright then. I admit I'm not Tashiko." She stared at other woman bravely, shoulders squared, body tense. "What do you plan to do to me?" she asked more softly.

The snap of fingers rang through the air, followed by a rumbling noise resembling a shifting tide. Kara turned her attention back to the woman standing before her, lowering her hand.

"There are about 20 guns trained on your heart right now...make one bad move and they'll fire," she remarked almost idly, quickly flicking her hand up again.

The rumbling noise intensified, and this time the black muskets came into view, their barrels emerging from the stone benches. Kara backed away from her. "You have approximately 30 seconds to tell us who you really are, and who sent you. I suggest you begin immediately."

**Two Months Earlier**

'_At about midnight last Thursday, yet another horrific addition to the growing chain of mysterious murders occurred. Nearly the fifth incident thus far, and perhaps the most frightening of them all, the murderer(s) still remains at large...'_

A half-empty coffee cup _thumped_ rather harshly upon the smooth wood of the table as the fingers that had previously held it moved to pick up the newspaper. Grey eyes widened in fervid interest as they locked themselves onto the article before them.

'_'The bodies of ten individuals were discovered outside a subway stop at approximately 5:00am yesterday morning by a nearby pedestrian. The police have determined that they are all male, but each had been mutilated beyond the point of recognition, particularly in the facial area. Four of the casualties appeared to have been taken down by bullets, while the other six suffered from knife wounds to the heart. Adding on to it, all seven suffered severe slashes to the chest and face, making it virtually impossible to identify the bodies. While the previous murders contained victims with similar injuries, this is the first time that such a large number has been attacked at once. _

_Police have declared that they are searching for the identity of the killer at the moment, but are unable to do much further_."

Kagome set the paper down dejectedly. She glanced listlessly out the window, fingers idly tracing the rim of the cup, then without warning, grabbed the newspaper and hurled it against the glass pane of the window. It hit with a resounding _smack_ before re-curling on the tile floor

"You're an awful morning person," a faintly amused voice declared, followed closely by the soft padding sound of footsteps.

"Bad news?" asked the owner of the voice, a black haired, brown-eyed woman appeared from the hallway behind the table, only to walk over to where the paper had landed. She quickly scanned the top page, then let out a whistle.

"Not exactly bright and sunny wake-up news, is it? Almost makes you lose your appetite." She opened up a cabinet and pulled out a box of cereal, then poured a cup of coffee before joining the other woman at the table. "If you're sensitive, that is." She snuck a quick glance at her roommate's cold countenance. "Which apparently you are."

When her companion only continued to glare with renewed fervor at her cup, she asked gently, "Something bothering you, aside from that? Lots of nasty clients today?"

Kagome shook her head. "It's not that. Sango - its just everything's so twisted these days."

The brown-eyed girl, Sango, sighed and shook some cereal into an open palm. "Murder's never right. Especially something so sick."

Kagome shook her head again. "I can understand why they'd do that. I mean, I don't excuse it," she added hastily, "But when you start to think about how things have changed, it gets easier to understand why there's so many psychopaths prowling the streets. The government's the problem, they've forgotten the point to politics. Even policemen don't do what they're supposed to anymore. They aren't taking care of the public, they're taking care of the government."

Sango cocked an eyebrow, taking a bite of her cereal. "That's a little harsh, isn't it? They're still tracking down criminals and stuff. You gotta realize there's only so much they can do. At least they're trying."

"Oh, forget it," said Kagome irritably.

Sango grinned, then reached over and ruffled her roommate's hair. "You think too much. Just be like me and don't give a damn as long as it doesn't affect you. Way less stress that way."

Kagome shook her head in exasperation, then darted a glance at the slender gold wristwatch on her arm. She suddenly stood up, taking her cup to the sink before heading towards the entryway of the apartment. "Gotta go before I miss my first session. See you tonight, kay?" She paused a moment after grabbing her black briefcase, then added, almost as an afterthought, "And just from a professional perspective- I don't think your advice is very helpful."

She didn't wait to hear Sango's response, but headed directly out the door. Outside, she descended the stairway of the three-story apartment complex, and walked towards the blue car parked beside the curb.

A few minutes later, Kagome was on the road, briefcase settled on the passenger seat beside her. She flicked the radio on, tuning the station until the calming sound of a piano sonata filled her car.

For a moment, she focused her mind solely on the music and the road ahead of her. Relax, she needed to relax... She took a couple of deep breaths, concentrating on becoming cool and nonchalant, that is until the piano music suddenly broke off, replaced by a woman's high and grating voice.

"Oh for the love of..." Kagome mumbled as she moved to change the station. A man's voice replaced the woman, reporting information that caused Kagome to freeze.

_"Last night, teenage boy Hanazaki Kano was shot and killed by police at a costume party. The police officer, who refuses to disclose his name, explained that neighbors had made complaints on the noise level resulting from the said party. Upon entering, he states that Kano drew a gun at him, and made as if to press the trigger. _

_In self-defense, the officer unlatched its own gun and aimed to simply maim young Kano, but unfortunately issued a critical wound. The boy bled to death before help could arrive, a tragic loss. Forensic teams later discovered the gun he had aimed was no more than a prop toy. The officer has offered his condolences..." _

Kagome's hand had returned to the wheel sometime in the midst of the news, and was now clutching it to the point where her knuckles were turning white.

A few more mundane topics were announced, including the weather forecast and information concerning the newest fad diet. She tuned all of this out, and was only distinctly aware of new music beginning to play.

A particularly dilapidated house to the right caught her eye, a one-story, split-shingled dwelling that looked on the verge of collapse. The surrounding buildings weren't much better, each battered and forlorn, paint peeling from aged wooden planks.

People roamed up and down the street, eyes downcast and faces set rigidly. Children cowered behind their mothers, or played on unkept lawns. All in all, the sight was grim.

This was the dark sector of town, the area most avoided if they could. Unfortunately, it stood between her and work, and so she passed through it every day. And every time she drove through, the same run-down house attracted her glance, despite its unremarkable appearance and lack of life. It had stood gaping at her for months, and each day as she drove past, she looked for some sign of the inhabitants. She never saw any, unlike that in those around it.

The grotty houses slowly slid by and disappeared, replaced by towering specimens of glass and steel. It was between two such buildings that her clinic lay, a small and rather squat dwelling that had once been a shrine, and appeared distinctly out of place next to the modern skyscrapers.

Kagome pulled up in front of it, taking her briefcase out with her. She made her way up the wide cement steps, then unlatched and entered the heavy wooden doors.

The interior was deathly silent, aside from the rustling noise of her shoes upon the hardwood floor. The walls stood pristine and white, not unlike a hospital room in their single-minded pattern.

She headed towards an oaken desk that lay in the corner of the room, then pulled out a blue schedule book from the top of a stack of papers. She surveyed it quickly, then checked her watch against the clock that hung on the wall.

She sighed discreetly, then set about preparing for the arrival of her next client. At precisely nine-o-clock by the wall clock, or nine-o-two by her watch, she heard the high _ding_ of bells, indicating that someone had arrived at the doorway.

She hastily walked to the door, opening it wide, then stood back and greeted the arriver in what she hoped was a comforting smile.

"Mr. Okawa?" she asked cheerily, motioning for him to step inside. "My name is Kagome Higurashi. Come inside and we can get started."

The man glanced warily at her, eyes shifting nervously as though anticipating an attack. When she made no movement aside from a slight extension of her arm, he stepped inside.

She followed him slowly, careful to walk slowly and purposefully. She gave him a wide berth as she stepped to her desk to grab a pile of papers, then approached him.

By now, he appeared more relaxed, though remained perched in a padded seat by the entranceway. She sat a little ways from him, shifting through the papers until his report reached her hands.

"Mr. Okawa, I have a report from your family stating that recently you've experienced some paranoia as well as mild hallucinations. Is this true?" she asked kindly.

His head jerked in a quick nod, agitation beginning to rise in his eyes.

Kagome smiled reassuringly, waiting until he gradually relaxed into his seat. "Mr. Okawa, please never fear being vocal here. I'd really like it if you talk to me, for you to tell me anything on your mind."

He nodded. "You…you're a kind girl…" he rasped suddenly.

Kagome smiled. "Thank you. Now can you describe these visions to me?"

* * *

Beneath the velvet, smog-contaminated, black sky, at the heart of the city, the existing elements of tranquility and equality were slowly being ripped apart.

And beyond that, another type of destruction was about to take place.

Three men stood waiting outside a plank covered warehouse. One checked the dials of his watch, making a disgusted _hmph_ at the other two.

"He's late. Ya don't think he's just playing with us?"

One of the men shrugged, while the other shook his head. "He wouldn't dare, not if he wants..."

The loud _BANG_ of a door being flung emerged from within the warehouse. The three started, glancing anxiously at each other, then at the ominous wooden structure behind them.

"What's with picking a ramshackle place like this to meet at?" the first man grumbled. "Damn creepy, nothing but ghettos and slums for miles..."

Another _thud,_ this time much closer than before. The three grasped hastily under their coats, each pulling a gun from beneath the folds of cloth.

"You don't reckon he's _inside_?"

A sudden _creek_ emitted from a doorway twenty feet away from them. The three jumped, turning to face the mystery assailant, but there was nothing aside from a newly-swinging door.

"Come on. Let's go check this out," the first man ventured, starting off towards the door.

The other two followed slowly, peering nervously as their companion kicked the door open, then pointed the gun inside.

"Nothing in here," he shouted to them, clearly relieved. "Now let's go have a look- you never know, he could be fooling with us."

They entered the narrow doorway, eyes straining to see through the gloom. They hadn't taken more than a few steps when another thud sounded, this time deep inside the structure. The three hesitated momentarily, until the first walked assertively towards the source of the noise.

"Are you sure we should...you know?" asked one timidly. "I mean...what if it _isn't_ him?"

The first man paused, then turned around and sneered at the two. "Well, then we're going to find out, aren't we? Its three against one..whatever the hell this thing is, it won't stand a chance against us."

With that, he dove forward again, with the other two trailing.

Without warning, the boom sounded directly before them, and a sword seemingly materialized from the darkness. A split-second later, the first man lay stricken on the floor, blood slowly seeping through his shirt. His two companions let out a hoarse yell, scrambling back to the entrance. However, before either had taken more than three steps, the sword struck again, this time neatly decapitating one of the men.

The remaining man didn't pause to glance at the gory remains of his companion; he took off desperately down the way he had come. He could see the doorway ahead- just twenty more steps- fifteen...

He never got the chance to finish counting. His body crumpled, falling to rest the same instant his head _thwacked_ onto the ground.

In less than three minutes, three lives had been snuffed out.

* * *

"You've done it, yes?" a man's voice cut through the cell phone speaker.

White hair blew carelessly in the wind, while a pair of golden eyes gleamed. The figure licked the crimson blood from the blade, lips turning up into a feral grin. "Yep. Exactly the way you wanted. The stage is set..."


	2. White Assassin

**Chapter 2: White Assassin **

"_Police suspect that this may be the work of a trained killer...the fourth murder case this month...however, no further leads have been made on this case."_

Sango sighed as Kagome turned off the TV. "Hey! I was actually trying to watch that!"

Kagome shrugged. "It's too depressing. There's never any good news on anymore."

Sango grinned. "Yeah there is. Just yesterday it showed a lady getting her cat back after a narrow scrape in cat heaven..."

The rest of her words were cut out by a pillow flung at her head. "Ow!" Sango cried from beneath the material.

Kagome grinned innocently as her friend tossed aside the pillow and glared. She headed around the room into the kitchen. "Want some tea?"

Sango stood too, muttering as she approached her roommate. "You shrine girls, always with your tea. Oh! That reminds me- your mom called earlier. Told you to call her back whenever you got off work."

Hidden from her roommate's view, Kagome stiffened, staring emptily forward as she filled a kettle with water from the tap. "Really?" She said as casually as she could. She set the kettle on the stove. "Could you watch the stove for me while I make the call?"

Sango shook her head. "Go ahead. I've got it covered here."

Kagome snatched the cordless phone from the wall, carrying it into the single bedroom she shared with Sango. She plopped onto her bed, then dialed her mother's number.

A warm voice picked up, "Hello?"

Kagome paused a moment, hesitant to say a word. She hadn't spoken with her mother in months, not since graduating and moving in with Sango, not since that incident.

"Hey Mama."

The woman on the other line practically gushed with happiness. "Kagome! Its so good to hear you again, dear. How have things been?"

"Good. I got my practice up and running, and Sango's been a great help."

"I'm glad to hear that! So the shrine's serving the purpose?"

"Yeah, its perfect," She answered. "How about you and Souta?"

Her mother sighed. "Your brother's being just like every other teenager."

"Annoying you to death, in other words?" Kagome supplied.

"Not yet, but certainly to the brink of it," she laughed. "Altogether though, I'd have to say we're both doing well. He even got himself a girlfriend."

Kagome whistled, allowing a small smile to touch her face. "Wow...somehow I can't picture that. Souta with a girl..."

"Yes, and they've been driving me insane. Always wants to skip out on dinner to spend time with her...I can't even count how many meals I've had to save for him." she chuckled. "So, any new man you might want to tell your mother about?"

"No, no one but me and Sango here. And at the rate we're going, we're both going to end up spinsters." She sucked in a breath, regretting the implicit connotations in her words.

Her mother simply laughed. "Not to worry, dear, I'm certain you'll meet someone eventually. Just make sure to introduce me to him when you do, alright?"

"Yeah, definitely, Mama."

There was a pause over the line, as if the other woman was in deep consideration. "How about you come and visit us sometime, Kagome?"

Kagome hesitated. On one hand, she really wanted to see her mother again, but on the other... "I'll think about it. If I do, I'll call you beforehand."

"Or just swing by directly. No need to take formalities with family."

"Okay then." In the other room, a sudden whoop rang out. "Hey Mama, sorry, but seems like Sango's having trouble with my tea kettle."

"You left that girl alone with a stove? You better check up on her before she burns the house down." She said, then muttered, "Like last time."

Kagome laughed. "Alright, I'll do that then."

"One last thing Kagome," her mother continued, a slight break in her voice. "Your father would be very proud of everything you've done."

Kagome smiled softly, eyes glazing. "Yeah, I know, Mama.

"Well, I shouldn't keep you from the emergency at hand then!" her mother laughed.

Kagome chuckled back. "Thanks Mama. Take care, and say hi to Souta for me!"

She hung up immediately following her mother's "Bye dear," then bound to the kitchen.

"DON'T!"

Sango had been reaching towards the kettle, but flinched back at her voice. "No need to yell! I was just about to turn it off."

"_Right_," replied Kagome. She darted over to the steaming iron pot and twisted the knob to the off position.

Sango was scowling heavily now, arms folded across her chest. "Honestly now, was that all necessary? Alright, so I almost burnt your house down once, but that was an _accident_. We all make mistakes! Don't I at least get the chance to learn from mine?"

"No." came Kagome's curt, smiling answer as she poured the water into a mug for Sango and a thermos for herself. "Learn to work the stove first, then go about learning from your mistakes. Preferably not in my kitchen, though."

"_Our _kitchen," grumbled Sango. "Just because you're the only one who actually cooks in it doesn't mean you're the only one entitled to it. I pay just as much rent as you do. If you really want it, then it's only right that you should pay a bit more each month."

Kagome grinned. "Not a chance. Your still entitled to eat your cereal here. Plus, you eat everything I cook, so no exemption for you."

Sango continued pouting. "That is not fair! You make way more money than I do! I'm still a student in college, while you're off making the big bucks in your own clinic, talking with all the crazy people."

Kagome rolled her eyes. "Deal with it, not my fault that I got out of the school loop quicker than you did. Besides, you have a job too."

"I'm a_ janitor_."

She had to work hard to look serious. "Again, not my fault." She checked her watch. "I gotta go now. See you!" She snatched up the thermos and returned to the living room.

Unseen by her roommate, she deftly checked in her briefcase for the presence of a certain paper before grabbing an envelope from the drawer. Satisfied, she headed out.

* * *

Kagome placed the article into an envelope, deftly sealing it. She paused, debating on whether or not to drop it in the mailbox.

Censorship of letters was commonplace these days; therefore she had to drive directly to the location specified and submit the article there. But still, there were always dangers involved. Sure, it felt great to voice herself, but was it worth the risk of getting caught?

Before she could dwell any further upon the issue, she stuffed the envelope in.

Now, fate could have its little turn.

* * *

Her car rolled to a stop in front of the shrine. She hefted out her briefcase and quickly ensured that her doors were all locked. Car looting was terrifyingly common these days, especially in downtown Tokyo. But with the severe cuts to public transportation, there was little alternative for working people. They were becoming as bad as the Americans, Kagome thought with distaste.

To her surprise, Mr. Okawa was already standing by the door, making no movement aside from watching her.

He was here unsupervised again, she thought, lips pursed. Someone in his condition shouldn't be left alone for even a few minutes, least of all next to a busy street in the middle of a bustling city. Even the power of the shrine wouldn't be able to do much should he get run over by a car.

It was strange how she'd never seen anyone else with him before, although it was obvious that he got a ride here and back.

"Mr. Okawa!" she called out, waving to him. "Please stay right there, I'll be up in just a moment!"

The old man blinked, then nodded in that slight way of his.

She rushed up the steps, then lay an arm over his shoulders as she unlocked the shrine's front door.

Upon entering, she immediately ushered him to a chair, setting her briefcase onto the oaken table without thought.

"Are you thirsty?" she asked, heading towards the small ice box inside the oaken cubicle.

He failed to respond, which she took as a yes. Without dwelling too long on the contents of the box, she pulled out two water bottles and headed back towards him.

"Hope this isn't too cold for you," she remarked cheerily, twisting the cap off before handing it to him. At first, he appeared unsure of what to do, but in the next moment, a gem of recollection surfaced in his eyes and he raised it to his mouth, taking a long chug.

She waited with bated breath, almost sighing with relief after he successfully swallowed.

She sat down across from him, probing into his eyes, grabbing a clipboard from the rack on the wall and setting it one her lap.

"Today, Mr. Okawa, I would like us to work on your relationships with others, namely your family members. First off, who are you closest to in your family?"

It seemed a struggle for him to probe through his thoughts, but his face lit up as someone seemed to pop into his mind. "Higurashi," he mumbled.

Kagome paused in surprise, then jotted a few notes onto her clipboard. "No, I mean someone who's in your family, and unfortunately, I don't believe I'm any blood relation to you."

"Higurashi," the man insisted, staring at her with bright eyes.

Kagome sighed, then took his hand gently into her own. "Tell me the truth, Mr. Okawa. I know you understand this question. Let's try something else. Who drove you to my shrine this morning?"

The man paused and seemed to think for a moment, then shook his head. She frowned. "You can't remember?" He slowly nodded.

"Was the person someone in your family?"

He shook his head.

"Well, that would explain it then. Ok, let's keep going. Do you have any children?"

He nodded.

"How many?"

One finger. "A son?" Nod.

Progress! Kagome could have shouted in relief, if it weren't for the fact that she was sure Mr Okawa wouldn't have reacted pleasantly to that.

She was about to proceed on, when the man before her suddenly spoke.

"Grey...eyes," he murmured, peering into her eyes with his aged brown ones.

She blinked in surprise, then nodded once she caught his thought process. "Yes, I have grey eyes. My mom always said they were rather strange. Of course, she has brown ones. Mine are from my father."

"Just like his," mumbled the old man, nodding in agreement to her words.

"Yes, my father you mean?" she asked cautiously, a bit perturbed by the way his own eyes were still peering unfalteringly into her own.

"Yours...like his.." he mumbled again, less coherently this time.

"Like whose?" she asked, more slowly now.

But that train of thought seemed to have vanished, replacing something far less innocent and pleasant in his gaze.

His pupils were dilating, now seeming to look beyond her, she noted, hastily rising from her chair and heading closer to him. Hopefully, this wouldn't be one of his hallucination attacks, she prayed, mostly in vain as in the next instant he staggered back, staring at her in utmost fear.

"Stay away from me!" he bellowed, voice deeper and louder than she'd ever heard it.

"Mr. Okawa! It's only me! Kagome Higurashi!" she cried, futilely trying to calm him.

If anything, that only seemed to make it grow worse, fear melting into anger. "You...you will not hurt me any longer!" he continued, then in two strides stood barely a hairbreadth away from her. Before she had any chance to react, he grasped her arm in his calloused, surprisingly firm grip, squeezing until she was certain bruises had formed.

But a moment later, he'd calmed down again, peering at her with curiosity. His hands remained around her arm but the pressure lessened. Now, it seemed as though he were trying to impart a private message to her, rather than inflict harm.

His eyes met her own once again, now clear of the demons that had haunted him not minutes earlier. His mouth moved, as though seeking words that refused to depart, lips making odd flopping noises.

Finally, he seemed to regain control of his vocal cords, and managed to gasp out, "He...he..he's coming for you."

Still startled, Kagome simply nodded, loosening his grip on her arm.

Moments later, his eyes peered blankly forward, seemingly without memory of what had occurred just a minutes ago.

By the time the cab boy picked him up, he lay as reclusive and silent as before.

She shuddered, unable to completely free herself of the fear she'd experience in the seconds he'd imploded.

Well, this certainly created a whole new lock to pick.

**Three Days Later  
**

He'd finished the job, exactly as the orders had directed, messy and disgusting, precisely the opposite of his normal cold, clean efficiency. The men now lay with oblong circles carved into their still chests, seeping crimson blood onto the cold cement. Nearby, a subway train rang its horn, announcing the moment for his departure.

He cleaned the blade deftly, sliding it fluidly into the sheath that hung on his waist. Lots of murderers, both past and present, preferred to leave theirs hanging bare and uncovered in steely, bloody glory, but he preferred to think more practically.

And it simply wouldn't do to risk slicing off a section of his thigh during one of his jumps or escape runs. Not to mention how difficult it would be to clean the filthy blood from his white robe.

And Sesshoumaru hated looking dirty.

The subway was getting closer, so he lost no time in darting back to the tunnel, in the direction of the crowds. Once there, he could blend in with the other people, then make his way to the exit.

The herd of walking people was easy enough to find, and merging in was effortless. People never had time to do more than cast a quick glance at those around them, not if they planned on catching the train in time.

Sesshoumaru moved smoothly through the myriad of people, navigating through gaps and pauses in the flow. His goal was to reach the exit as soon as possible, preferably before the police arrived. He had minutes, at best, before someone would discover the pile of bodies lying beside the underground tracks, made all the more evident by the large pools of blood that would undoubtedly be spreading beneath the still-warm bodies.

He'd been doing a lot of these sort of jobs lately, each with a similar purpose in mind- to strike fear in the hearts of the Japanese public and goad both government and police. Lately, more murders had occurred, though whether or not they were for the same person or organization was debatable. The killing may have started off with an actual purpose, but the more well-known they became, the more common and popular they seemed to become. Nowadays, people would commit crimes just for the high, reveling in the idea of pissing off the government and instigating panic upon the public.

Of course, the jobs he committed were never purposeless. The people were always well-defined, the locations specified to the precise tile on which their backs were to rest.

A shrill scream, followed by a series of yells broke from one of the more isolated areas of the station. Undoubtably, his bodies had been found. Careful not to appear suspicious, and ensuring that the blade lay well-hidden beneath his robes, Sesshoumaru picked up his pace, threading ever faster towards the exit. He reached it just in time, when the ringing police cars appeared down the street.

The area would be closed off for an hour or so, as the police did quick scans of everyone still inside the building. But even they weren't stupid enough to think that the killer would simply stick around. Instead, they'd fingerprint and scan every crevice on site, only to come up without a single clue days later.

Even if his job had to be messy, _he_ certainly didn't.

* * *

Tokyo Underground had been bustling with crime, drugs, and illicit sex for centuries, but had never stood in as much sleek glory as it did now.

The reason? Quite simple, actually. The government was becoming careless. The so-called police force no longer had the power or drive to do more than save cats and make reports. Hardly the sort of protection required by civilians, especially in light of the recent jump in homicides.

People were beginning to recognize the faults in the government, in the republic of sorts that had surfaced a few years ago with claims of grandeur and human rights and a whole other spew of nonsense.

And that's precisely what it was. Pure rubbish, especially in the minds of the Underground.

The Surface world, as they coined the (previously) non-criminal sector of the city, lay in shambles, upset and confused by the lies of the years. Which made it perfect for conquest.

Contrary to public opinion, the Underground was not simply a disjointed criminal organization connected solely by the desire to ruin and destroy all. No, that was merely the textbook version.

In reality, Tokyo Underground was about as close to the Western medieval model of hierarchy as it was possible to get in the modern day. Meaning, it was organized, astonishingly so. At the bottom were the lesser criminals and petty stealers, the largest, most disbanded group, each belonging to certain guild-type groups based on occupation, while above them stood the masters, the more accomplished ones of each division.

Rising up were the ringleaders, then the representatives (equivalent of lords), and finally closing with the Dictator, the one in charge of the entire Underground. For centuries, this had been determined by blood, until that particular family had died off without a successor. And so it became a fight between the strongest, involving tests of both mental and physical prowess, of wit and strength, until only the best of the best emerged. After all, when it came to controlling a world of crime, one certainly had to be capable.

And of course, just as in every society, there existed one other group. The celebrities. Not literally, of course, but certainly close. They were the most celebrated of the Underground, the ones who made the legends, inspiring stories, punishments, and prayers. They transpired rank, often making dealings with the Dictator himself just as easily as they would others of their class.

There were currently only three such people alive at the moment. One of them was the famed White Assassin, known to both to those of the Surface and Underground alike. And the second...well, no one knew much regarding him. He'd only recently appeared in the news, rumored to be every bit as skilled as the White Assassin, if not more so.

And finally, the third was none other than the dictator himself, the commandeer of the entire criminal world.

It was rumored that he had slain over five hundred men previous to attaining his position, each in varying ways with self-invented weapons. These included twenty types of poison gas, eleven redesigned knives, five types of exploding bullets, and hundreds of other miscellaneous tools, including a mace, scythe, and chain cannon.

It would even be reasonable to conclude that he was a legend among celebrities, the ultimate star...

...who was currently doing paperwork. He was holding a conference with a group of representatives as well, but appeared to be more focused on the pile of forms before him.

"Does he seem satisfactory, Sir?" Not a single person knew what his true name was, or dared to ask. All records containing it had been destroyed upon his ascension to his position, for safety, and privacy sake.

The Dictator glanced up, took out a cigarette, and proceeded to light it with a gold leaf patterned lighter. However, rather than extinguishing it once the coiled paper caught flame, he pulled up the sheet of paper he'd been studying, and lit it on fire.

The man who had asked the question paled noticeably as the orange flames greedily licked the white page, leaving nothing but a spray of gray ash on the table.

"No, not _satisfactory_," mimicked the Dictator in an strangely soft, almost feminine voice, turning back to the other papers in his pile. "Any personal guard I hire will need far more credentials and experience than this pathetic rubbish. Is this truly the best you can do?"

The unfortunate man shook his head furiously. "No, Sir, of course not, it's just with all the new dangers, bodyguard demand has been rising.."

"That is no excuse," snapped the Dictator. "_I _require far more protection than any other. Who knows when the day will come that the government will catch on and discover our world? When they do, I'll be first on the execution list."

"Sir..you have many skilled guards already," the man said cautiously.

"Useless, everyone of them. Even the ones I trained myself are pathetically weak. I want someone stronger and more experienced, who has practiced skill and has slain nearly as many as myself." His eyes gleamed, red lips pulling up into a humorless grin.

"Someone like the _White Assassin_. He'll do..."

* * *

_**Author's Corner**_

This might be the wrong genre/category to post this recommendation, but if any of you are Harry/Draco slash fans (and even if you're not), make sure you check out this masterpiece of a tale:

go on

Search under Author for Maya

Look for story Underwater Light (you may need to change the encoding on your screen from unicode to Western European to get rid of the weird question marks)

This is the most brilliant, most well-developed story I've ever read in all of my fanfic endeavors. Maya has a wonderful sense of humor, yet it doesn't overwhelm the intrinsically deep and potent plot.

The beginning will seem a little strange- don't let that deter you, by the time you've finished chapter 3, I can guarantee that you'll be hooked.


	3. The Empty House

**Chapter 3: The Empty House**

Kagome had been on edge the entire day. It had begun right in the morning, when Sango had happily placed a cup of tea in front of her, claiming that she had made it all by herself without any noticeable accident in the kitchen. That was until a burning scent began exuding from the general direction of the stove twenty minutes later, and upon inspection, discovered that the oven had 'mysteriously' flickered on and had started to slowly bake the thermal mitt inside to a blackened crisp.

Needless to say, that had _not_ been the best morning of her life.

The feeling persisted through her workday, despite nothing remarkably strange occurring, with exception of one overly superstitious patient who claimed that she'd spotted three black cats as she'd headed across the street to the shrine.

How peculiar indeed.

Now, with her last patient gone for the day, she honestly didn't feel much better. The radio in her office had reported seven unsolved murders, three in a warehouse, and four in a subway, apparently right in town. That was more than a little unsettling.

With her briefcase now packed, her paperwork done and organized (for the most part), she prepared to head home, locking the door behind her and walking down the wide steps to her car.

The paranoia only escalated. For a brief moment, she swore she could feel eyes trained on her figure, nothing definite, but certainly the tangible sensation of being watched.

Without making it appear too suspicious, Kagome cast her gaze around, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. When nothing came up, she darted towards her car, not daring to breathe again until she'd locked the doors and revved the engine.

She made a couple of attempts to take a relaxing breath, failing each time, until her blood pressure seemed to heighten rather than decrease.

She pulled away from the curb, but the sensation only followed.

And honestly, it was beginning to annoy her.

This was _ridiculous_, she was a _psychologist_ for heaven's sake. She was suppose to understand the brain's entire workings behind paranoia, about how it sprouted, and how it rarely accurately reflected reality. More than likely, she simply lacked sleep, or had an imbalance of adrenaline, probably from the morning's incident.

But still...she couldn't relax. There were some positive, even accurate issues with intuition, which served as the basis for paranoia. There was the chance that maybe, something, or someone, actually _was_ following and observing her...

And of course, there was the issue of the article she'd submitted. It had rested on the corner of her mind for the entire week. Despite all acts of bravado, she _was_ scared of getting caught.

However, dwelling upon it wouldn't help.

Giving a light shrug, mostly to shake the tenseness from her shoulders, she focused her attention on the road again, barely giving a glance at the still deserted house she passed by.

If she had looked closer, she might have noticed the figure in white cloth, half hidden behind the oak.

* * *

The new job had come almost the instant he'd stepped foot from the subway station, requiring only the coming darkness to carry forth.

Which meant he had to wait.

Not that he minded. Standing and waiting, or crushing and murdering; it no longer made any difference. Death did not hold as much appeal or pleasure for him as it once did. It could no longer block out the demons and ghosts of his past, or drown out the memories that tore at him like a rampant plague.

But it had made him a legend. The Underground buzzed with news of him, never saying his name, but always of the tasks he'd completed, of the sword he used to kill, and of his legendary precision and stealth. He was the ideal assassin, the sort of killer that lesser ones could only dream of becoming.

Indeed, he had finally achieved the reputation he'd been forging for years, only to realize that it meant nothing.

Irony, in its simplest form, and perhaps a touch of mockery from the fates.

The sun still blazed strong from its angle above the horizon, marking the many hours he still had before his prey arrived. He glanced at the location he'd been designated, noting every applicable detail, until the face of the aged house was burned into his mind.

The oak tree behind him wouldn't serve as a viable waiting place for much longer, meaning it was time to find a new spot.

After executing a quick scan of the surroundings to ensure that no one had noticed him, Sesshoumaru left the tree, skirting the shadows until he reached the side of the house. The wood lay peeling on the wall, still dotted with flecks of gray paint.

According to his orders, the house was abandoned, and had been for almost five years. He rounded the corner at the back of the house, pressing his body to the panes of the wood. Nothing lay before him except a worn down yard, with mottled weeds growing haphazardly in it. It lay sheltered from view, rendering him nearly invisible from the surrounding houses. Unless, of course, someone were to come back here.

For a moment, he thought he heard a low rattling from within the house, but it stopped almost seconds later.

Rats, hopefully.

* * *

She allowed herself a sigh of relief once she arrived home. Safe, for the moment.

Just for precaution's sake, she bolted the door and hung the chain. Sango wouldn't be back for the rest of the afternoon. Her janitor shift went from 3:00pm until midnight.

For the moment, Kagome reckoned she could do with a nap. The stress of the week must have taken a greater toll than even she expected.

But the instant her head hit the pillow, she couldn't help remembering the raspy, panicked voice of Mr. Okawa just days earlier, though it felt longer.

"_He's coming for you..."_

* * *

The sun was soon nothing but a half-spilling tomb of light. Which meant it was almost time. Sesshoumaru slid fluidly through the shadows, arriving at one of the back windows, grimy from disuse and age.

He gave it a light pull, noting the way it stuck. Silently, he removed his sword from its sheath and ran the back of the blade along the dirt-filled crevices of the glass pane. After wiping the steel across a brush to dislodge the dust clods, he slid it back into the sheath resting on his hip.

With slight effort, he slid the window open, just wide enough for him to slide through.

Inside, he heard the rattling noise again, now louder and almost like the scampering sound of feet. He shut the window behind him, padding softly on the aged wooden floor.

The smell was disgusting, something akin to rotten wood fused with the stench of dead animals. Had his self-control been any less than it was, it was doubtful that he could have stood inside for a minute, much less wait an hour.

But Sesshoumaru was not one to back out of the job. He made his way to where he judged the middle of the house to be, then sat down gently with his back pressed against what had once been a counter. He unsheathed his sword, holding it lightly against his palm, and mentally reviewed the layout of the house. The front door lay somewhere to his right, down a dank corridor. Another hallway led to a bathroom and a couple bedrooms.

There appeared to be another area in the back, but the smell discouraged him from investigating.

It was no wonder the house was deserted; it was an absolute ruin. Years ago the government would have dissembled or repaired it, but in the corrupt politics of the day, a single house mattered about as much as a fly.

The minutes dragged slowly, wearing on his trained discipline and astuteness. Finally, there came a sound from the front door, men arguing softly amongst one another.

He rose with the grace and delicacy of a shadow, blade raised. There came the unmistakable noise of someone ramming into the door. He resisted the urge to snort. Such clumsy fools. It was fortunate that no one in the vicinity would care enough to investigate the sounds.

The aged wood gave soon enough, releasing a tumult of badly hushed voices and footsteps. He edged to the opening of the hallway, close enough to hear their conversation.

"What are we looking for?" one man asked.

"The Dictator said he was going to meet with our demands," another one responded.

"Why would he do that?" piped another. "How do we know this isn't a trap? You all heard about those men in the warehouse...what if we end up like that?"

"Shut up, you dumb ass! You all know the Dictator wasn't behind it. I checked with ground sources."

"They could have lied," came a grim voice. "Or they might not have known either. He has enough power to hush away any scuffle he wants. "

"Will you all quit talking like that?" barked the first man. "We've got more than enough people to fight whatever the hell he dishes us!"

"If he's in here, why aren't there any lights?"

"Light up a match, Kaza. Let's investigate."

From the voices, there were a minimum of seven people in the group. There was a quick hiss, then the soft glow of a match lit the hall.

Sesshoumaru stood still, mentally devising a way to strike down all seven. This was a greater number than what he usually worked with. Of course, that made no difference.

The men seemed to have fashioned rough torches, probably from the remains of the door. From his spot in the room, he watched as the light magnified in the hallway. Then, it began approaching the joint of the hall with the room he currently perched in.

He crouched behind the counter, out of sight from the entryway. The men entered the room, then one began shouting.

"You bastard! Quit sniveling around and just show us your face!"

"No one's here," one man grumbled. "He's tricked us."

"Hang on," said the last. "I hear something."

Indeed, the scuttling sound from before returned, from the area down the other hallway, Sesshoumaru realized with a start.

The men automatically headed in that direction, with Sesshoumaru following silently. They were too preoccupied to notice anything behind them, and proceeded forward in eager anticipation.

At the far end of the hall, Sesshoumaru saw a closed door. The scuttling had stopped, but he swore he heard a quick gasp and a rush of breath. Very human sounds.

The men each swallowed, then the one in the lead kicked the door open.

"Show yourself!" he cried, then vanished into the room. The others filed in behind him, while Sesshoumaru carefully remained in the hallway, listening to their discovery.

A moment later, a cold laugh came from within the room, followed by other chuckles.

"A little girl, eh?" one man chuckled brashly. "Is this the gift the Dictator left for us?"

Outside the doorway, Sesshoumaru stiffened in surprise. There had been someone else in the house? He cursed his mistake for not inspecting more earlier.

"Well boys, since the Dictator stood us up, what do you say we make this at least partly worthwhile? Girl, you won't mind, would you?"

A burst of raucous laughter erupted from the men, along with a feeble cry from the girl.

"Who calls first dibs?" The man shouted eagerly.

Sesshoumaru chose that minute to act. He slid into the room, so quickly and noiselessly that it took a while for the men to even notice his presence.

When they did, it was too late.

He swung his sword, feeling it sink softly into the back of the first man, killing him before he'd even realized what had happened.

Without pausing, he ripped the blade from the body and dug it into the chest of the one beside him, piercing straight through the heart.

By then, the other men had finally caught on to what was happening.

"Who the hell are you?" One of them screamed, drawing a gun. A moment later, he lay agonized on the ground, blood seeping from a fatal cut beneath his ribs.

The others had now drawn out their weapons, and Sesshoumaru sensed a bullet whistling mere centimeters from his head. He swung his sword at the one who had fired, felling him in one stroke.

Four down, he counted mentally. More than half.

However, this half seemed well aware of the danger they were in, and had distanced themselves away from the blade.

The proposed leader, the man who held the make-shift torch in his hands, glowered at him, face torn between hatred and fear. "The Dictator sent you, didn't he?" he snarled. "That jackass... he betrayed us!"

Sesshoumaru raised his blade to strike again, but paused in mid swing. The man he had intended to strike had grabbed the little girl, whom Sesshoumaru had ignored until now, and was holding up her small body like a human shield.

The girl, no more than eight or nine years old, whimpered pitifully, struggling futilely to free herself from his grasp.

She was thin and dressed in rags so filthy they shone black in the light. Brown eyes gazed up in horror at Sesshoumaru, whose blade hung mere inches away from her body.

The leader took advantage of his pause to fire a bullet.

Sesshoumaru darted to the side the instant he heard the trigger pressed, but too late. The bullet buried itself into his left shoulder.

"A soft spot for innocents, eh?" the man crooned harshly. "I wouldn't have expected the famed White Assassin of the Surface have such a pitiful weakness."

Sesshoumaru ignored him, fighting back the shattering pain in his arm. His right arm still tightly gripped the sword, even as he keeled over.

"You are the White Assassin, right? The rumors weren't kidding- you are a pretty boy."

Golden eyes flashed, and the next moment the blade whirled again, this time at the legs of the man who held the girl. The man screamed out in agony, dropping her roughly. A split-second later, Sesshoumaru stood upright, knife darting into the belly of the man beside the leader before he had a time to shoot.

The leader's face had turned pale, and the gun rattled in his hands. He fired again, but only got air.

The leg-crippled man was suddenly silenced, a deep cut seeping blood from his throat. The one with the belly wound suffered the same fate not a second later.

"Well, you've lived up to your reputation," the leader declared with false bravado. His eyes suddenly grew hard. "But don't think for a minute that I'll make this easy for you."

In one simultaneous movement, he fired the gun and threw the torch from his hands. Sesshoumaru managed to jump away from the path of the bullet, but it was too late. The flaming head of wood lighted instantly upon contact with the dry wooden floor, engulfing the doorway within seconds.

Sesshoumaru cursed, only to be met by a chuckle from the last man. "The entire house will be aflame in minutes. As you can see, this place is more flammable than cinder. You may kill me, but by then it'll be quite difficult to escape."

Releasing a growl, Sesshoumaru lunged, piercing the man's throat. For a few seconds, the man choked, lips twisting hideously before his eyes lost focus and his head slumped.

Once certain he was dead, Sesshoumaru lost no time in withdrawing his blade and rushing to the exit. The flames formed a living barrier around the door, having spread to the rafters above. With practiced strokes, he cut away the flaming sides of the frame, making an entrance just wide enough for him to jump through.

The second before he lunged, a sound caught his ear.

The girl.

She was still alive, huddled in a far corner, as far from the carnage and flames as possible. Sesshoumaru paused. Her mouth hung open, and Sesshoumaru was sure that were she in a lesser state of shock, she would have been screaming. His mind roiled; the orange flames were glowing, spreading, until he no longer saw just an old, dilapidated room.

For in his mind, it was another scream he heard, another fire that burned...

Without thinking, without weighting the consequences or bothering to reason, he stepped over the dead bodies towards the girl. She trembled convulsively, brown eyes gazing up at him in terror. Wordlessly, Sesshoumaru slung her over his left shoulder, fighting against the throbbing pain in his arm.

The flames had grown, once again engulfing most of the doorway. Smoke smoldered, and from above, a flaming rafter fell.

He sidestepped it, then managed to duck under the flames and through the door, lifting and protecting the girl with his right arm. His face burned from the heat, eyes watering from the smoke until he could barely see. Holding the arm without the girl up to block his face from the flames, he barged his way through the flaming room. The bottom of his robe caught fire, but he ran regardless.

With the worst fires behind him, he headed towards the exit, snuffing out the fire on his robe with his injured arm.

It was then that he heard them.

Police sirens.

Gunshots could be ignored, but fire couldn't.

The girl whimpered again, bringing him back to the bleak situation. Maybe, if he ran quickly, he could escape them. But the ringing was coming from all directions, and by now the entire neighborhood would be awake. They would see him, him and the girl.

His face met the cool night air, and sure enough, a crowd of people had gathered outside. The police cars were pulling up.

He thought again of running away again, but the body slung over his shoulders gave a slight shiver. Slowly, he lowered the girl from his shoulder, keeping his face impassive despite the bolts of pain.

He expected her to run from him the instant he set her down, but instead, she stood still, peering at him with a mixture of fear and fascination. Then she trembled, biting her lip as she watched the house erupt in flames.

Sesshoumaru watched her, watched her strive with the loss of the only place she'd probably ever known in her life.

Strangely, he felt the same way.

* * *

_**Author's Corner**_

Here's to clear up some of the questions that might be running through your heads:

**Is this a Sess/Kag fic?**

Yes. And they will meet, shortly.

**Is Inuyasha in this story?**

Yes and no...? Definitely spiritually...we'll see how else...

**Where's Miroku?**

I don't know; truthfully, I'm not too fond of him. Perhaps he can be squeezed in- maybe as our next victim (kidding...partly)


	4. Arrest and Escape

**Chapter 4: Arrest and Escape**

"_Last night, at around 11:00pm, police finally arrested the man who has been responsible for the serial murders. He was discovered standing outside a burning house, which upon investigation, was found to contain the bodies of seven men. The men died not from the fire, but from severe sword wounds. The killer was still in possession of the weapon. Although his name has not yet been released, reporters did manage to film his arrest."_

"Holy shit," Sango breathed.

Kagome glanced over at her friend. "Yeah, weird that the police actually managed to do something right, huh?"

"No," Sango snorted. "Only you could think of something so darn _political_ while watching this. Are you not seeing what I'm seeing?"

"The guy's arrest?" Kagome peered at the screen in bemusement. "What about it?"

"Are you dense?" Her friend crowed, pointing furiously at the screen. "Did you _see_ him? Serial murderers shouldn't look like Greek gods. Or angels," she added, eyes glazing.

Kagome's gaze focused upon the center of the screen. There, a man with long, silvery-white hair stood staring calmly at the policemen as they stepped out of their cars and approached him with guns drawn. Sango was right, the man _did_ look unnaturally ethereal. She could almost picture him floating around on a cloud.

Kagome then noticed the small figure of a girl standing on the edge of the screen, watching as the man was led to a police car and placed in handcuffs. The rags she wore looked about as fitting as a potato bag, and in about as good a condition.

"He doesn't look upset at all," Sango remarked, still staring avidly at his perfect figure as the officers led him away.

Kagome squinted at the screen, trying to discern any sign of expression on his fine features. Aside from noticing that his eyes had a deep amber hue, there was nothing that spoke of remorse, resentment, or fear.

The clip had ended, and the news reporter returned to the screen.

"_The killer was first seen carrying a little girl over his shoulder, presumably away from the burning house. Investigators believe that the girl, who currently refuses to speak, had lived alone in the house previous to this attack."_

The news returned to the clip, this time showing a zoom up of the little girl as the man was pulled into a police car.

"So he kills seven men, then saves one girl," Kagome mused, staring at him in new fascination. "I'd love to psychoanalyze him," she muttered unconsciously.

"That's sick Kagome," Sango chortled in amusement, breaking her concentration. "Only you'd come up with something so weird for fun."

"And only you could drool senselessly over the said killer," Kagome retorted.

Sango chuckled. "Trust me, I'm not the only one who would. With that _gorgeous _face..." she sighed melodramatically.

"No, I suppose not," Kagome responded cryptically.

Sango peered at her friend, then shook her head. "Kagome, haven't you ever _liked_ a guy in your life?"

"Of course I have," said Kagome defensively. "I'm not a nun."

Sango grinned. "Prove it. In the five years I've known you, I don't believe I've ever seen you with a guy, or even with interest in one. You're much too _dry_ for your own good."

"Being with a guy is certainly overrated, you man-crazy girl," Kagome scoffed. "And honestly, _dry_? I certainly am not!"

Sango stared at her and laughed. "My god you're naive," Sango lamented jovially.

Her face grew serious. "But anyways, don't go running off with anyone, alright? I mean, what would I do about the rent?"

* * *

She spotted it almost immediately. Beneath all the other junk mail and advertisements sat the new issue of _The AG_.

She held her breath, both dying to look through it and scared to find out if they had done it. If her article had been printed.

Slowly, she flipped it open to the first page. Nothing but an editorial note. She scanned it quickly, then flipped to the next page. A different article, on the rise in terrorist activity.

Finally, three flips later, she saw it. _The Police Files: An Analysis of the Non-Civilian Police Force_.

A grin slowly spread across her face, widening as she hastily scanned the contents of the passage.

Yep, they'd published it. _She'd_ published an article.

She wondered what Sango's reaction would be. Would she think her silly and overcritical (like usual)?

More than likely, her roommate would say something along the lines of '_**This**__ is why you don't have a boyfriend'_

Oh well. It wasn't like she cared about what Sango thought anyway.

* * *

The police had taken him into custody some twelve hours ago (or more, he couldn't tell) and had accomplished little else. They had his name, they had a list of crimes he had supposedly (and very likely) committed, and they had a sample of his fingerprint, hair, and even the blood on the blade (along with the blade itself).

He was currently cuffed to a chair inside a sealed cement room, awaiting his interview. The wound on his shoulder had been roughly bandaged by a nurse prior to his arrival at the station. He hadn't slept in about thirty-six hours, but that was nothing for one accustomed to going days without sleep.

A beefy guard entered from the single steel door, accompanied by a lanky, somewhat haggard man. The guard remained standing as his companion, an officer from the badge, took a chair across from Sesshoumaru.

He carried a notepad with him, and deftly uncapped a pen before turning his gaze to the silver haired man.

"Officer Danske Hatsumoto," the man introduced himself. "I've been assigned as your interrogator."

He paused briefly, flipping open the notebook before directing him with an angry glare.

"You thought you were real slippery, didn't you?" the officer ground out. Sesshoumaru didn't so much as flinch, golden eyes coolly meeting the officer's.

"Your DNA isn't on our file record. We also ran a check of the name you gave us. It apparently belonged to a kid who died ten years ago. So I'll ask again. What's your real name?"

"I've already informed you. If you choose not to believe me, there is nothing else I can do."

The officer growled. "Like I said, think you're real sly, don't you? Well, know that we'll eventually bugger it out from you, consensual or not. If you don't tell us, we'll do a profile check, or scan the databases of every organization in Japan for someone matching your description. You don't have a hope of staying in the dark for long."

"Do whatever you wish," Sesshoumaru responded coldly.

Hatsumoto scowled, then bent towards his ear. Sesshoumaru resisted the urge to strain away at the man's foul mouth.

"You're lucky they told me to start off easy," he whispered ominously. "You know what I normally do to difficult convicts?" At the silence, he continued, "There's a nice array of nail peelers, needles, and hot rods in the drawers over here. Fortunately, your pretty skin and hair won't have to undergo any of that. Not today at least."

Sesshoumaru resisted the urge to lunge at the man. _Pretty._ How inadequate and insulting. Was there no other adjective that fools could think of?

The officer leaned away before declaring casually, as though nothing had transpired, "Onto the next question then. Did you commit the following crimes- burning and murdering the men in the house, killing seven subway victims two days ago, and finally decapitating the three men in the warehouse a week ago?"

"I was only involved in the first two," Sesshoumaru replied. "The latter had nothing to do with me."

His interrogator frowned. "But the men were struck with a weapon similar to your own."

"Understand that there is no purpose for me to lie about this," Sesshoumaru explained sedately. "I have already committed enough to warrant the death sentence. Has it not been decided?"

The officer cleared his throat. "I'm not allowed to reveal the panel's decision yet. But things do appear quite grim for you." He directed a badly covered smirk at him.

"Next. Explain your account of the little girl's involvement."

"I rescued her," Sesshoumaru answered curtly. "She was unaware of the entire exchange occurring."

"And what was that exchange?"

"As my life is forfeit, there is nothing I may tell you."

"Then will you mention who you are working for?"

"I work for no one."

"Don't play with me. Expert assassins like you don't just kill for personal pleasure. There's always someone on top. I want you to tell me who ordered you to do the killings."

"Once again, you are mistaken. There is no one in control of me."

"Dammit! Just answer the question!"

Sesshoumaru met his gaze unwaveringly. The officer threw up his hands and slammed them down on the chair, then turned the page on his notepad.

"Alright. We're done for today. But I'll see you again tomorrow, and everyday after that until you either give me the truth or the panel runs out of patience and decides to hang you."

* * *

Sango was out on a jog when she returned home. Not surprising. Sango was the fittest person she knew, and in many ways Kagome was jealous of her stamina. _She _could hardly last a quarter mile before feeling out of breath, while Sango could pull off six with minimal effort.

For the moment, she satisfied herself with rewriting a series of reports for the day's patients while sipping a cup of tea.

Her roommate returned about thirty minutes later, sweaty but not looking the slightest bit tired.

"I'm home!" she called dramatically, jogging over to where Kagome sat. "Still doing work? I'd think eight hours at the office would be enough."

"Paperwork is never finished," Kagome replied with a smile.

"That's why I'm never getting an office job," Sango replied, filling a cup with water. "Although sadly, you can't really make a living any other way." She plopped down across from Kagome.

"What's this?" she suddenly asked, snatching _The AG_ from the top of the table. She scanned the cover, then released a light groan.

"Gods Kagome, don't tell me you read this stuff."

"They sent it to me," Kagome replied defensively. "Besides, it's really interesting."

Sango shook her head, flipping through it. "That's not the point. You _can't_ get these things, because if anyone catches you, you'll be arrested. The stuff they have isn't exactly discreet."

"I happen to admire people who are brave enough to stand up to the system," Kagome retorted.

"Those _people_ are normally society's rift raft, ones who've sunk to the bottom and have nothing better to do than insult our legislative system."

"That's not true. I wrote one of the articles, and I don't happen to think I fall under the rift raft category."

Sango froze, lifting her eyes from the pages of the pamphlet to meet Kagome's. "Tell me you're kidding."

"I'm dead serious. It's on the third page. _The Police Files_. Read it and tell me what you think."

Sango glanced down at the article again, eyes crinkled with concern, and hastily flipped to page three. She raised her gaze again, now wide-eyed with shock and chagrin.

"Gods Kagome, don't you know any better?" she rebuked. "You're lucky they didn't publish your name, or you'd probably be sitting in a cell right now with all the other people who don't know when to hush up."

"I didn't think it was a huge deal."

"That's not the point! The only thing the authorities care about is that you're making the government forces look bad."

"No, I'm exposing their true motives," Kagome replied tersely, lowering her eyes from Sango's fierce gaze.

"That doesn't matter! Kagome, you can't endanger yourself like this! Why can't you just appreciate the things we do have? We're not half as bad off as twenty other countries in the world, and at least the police try to help us."

"But Sango...ever since the 'republic' was established, everything has been in their interest, everything is becoming _corrupt. _You and I both know it."

"Kagome, listen to me," Sango pleaded, tossing down the pamphlet. "You have to stop this…this _abnormal_ obsession with criticizing our rulers. There's nowhere to go, except down. I'm asking you as a friend to please stop and just be thankful for what you have."

The fierceness of Sango's gaze had melted away, replaced by worry and a tinge of fear. Kagome met her gaze again, feeling an honest bolt of guilt and conscience pass through her. Sango was _never_ afraid...she stuck things out, she rebelled. But if even Sango was giving up...what could she do? Her friend was right, she was clinging to a futile cause. And she was endangering her own livelihood.

"Alright," she murmured softly. "I'm sorry Sango. From now on, I promise to stop."

* * *

Danske was true to his word. For three days Sesshoumaru met with him, and in each of those interviews he was asked the same questions and gave the same answers.

On the fourth day, he had a surprise. When the door to the cement room opened, instead of seeing the uniformed figure of the officer, a far smaller one entered.

It took him a few moments to identify the short, roughly clothed youth as the same girl he had rescued from the house, the very reason he now sat in a cell.

The girl seemed uncertain of what to do, nervously shifting her foot and evading her eyes. She took a couple breaths, then slowly approached him, tentative and uncertain.

When she stood a foot away from his seated figure, she made a move that surprised them both.

She hugged him.

It was only for a second, and fear and self-consciousness seemed to overtake her almost immediately following the action, but it was enough to render him speechless. Little girls did _not_ hug him, especially not out of their own volition.

"Sorry!" she squeaked, bobbing her head down repeatedly in a bow. He simply stared at her.

"Mr. Rescuer, sir," she began, once finished with her apology. "Rin is very happy that you saved her from the fire. She wishes to thank you."

And with that, she proceeded to bow again.

"I hope Mr. Rescuer isn't unhappy to see Rin again, because I am happy to see you."

"Who sent you, girl?" Sesshoumaru cut in coldly.

The girl seemed to pause, then glance around furtively. Once satisfied, she leaned up to his ear and whispered, "Some officers told Rin to come here to see you. They said Rin needs to talk to them about Mr. Rescuer in order to see you."

She frowned. "But Rin didn't want to talk."

She paused again, this time stopped by the creaking of the door.

In stepped Danske. "Well, well, good to see you're well acquainted with one another," he drawled. "We thought being around you might finally get her to speak. Good to know it worked."

"Leave her out of this," Sesshoumaru suddenly growled.

"Out of what?" chimed the smirking officer. "Out of visiting you? The poor girl's been wandering about, trying to find you; it'd be cruel of you to shove her aside like this."

"Get out." It was a command, deadly in a silvery way that only the White Assassin could pull off.

Danske chortled, doing his best to feign bravado in the face of the prisoner's powerful gaze. "Still not confessing? You know, I've been very patient with you. Most officers only give it a day before they break out the tools. I've given you over half a week. But it seems like we'll need to use force after all." He motioned to the burly man beside him. "Take the girl away." The man took the girl's arm and pulled her out, ignoring her voiced protests.

Once they were gone, Danske opened the drawer he had pointed to on their first meeting and pulled out what appeared to be a series of blades, lined up parallel to one another.

"Finger cutters," he explained, flashing the metal before the captive in an attempt to draw a reaction. He failed to solicit anything. Sesshoumaru's eyes remained fixed on him, burning without a trace of fear.

What an unnatural being, Danske thought, a bit unnerved by the steely, unmoving eyes that were trained upon him. But without further reservations, he placed the tip of the captive's middle finger upon the row of blades.

"Now, give me the information I want, or I'll push your finger in," he warned, holding firm the captive's cuffed hand. "It might not cut anything off, but it'll hurt like hell."

"Do as you please. I have no information." The voice was as low and sharp as metal, unfazed in spite of the situation.

Danske peered at him, but saw that the man would not be giving in anytime soon. Somewhat against his better judgment, he pushed the finger into the metal grating, feeling the skin give slightly on the blades.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a sharp pool of blood spilled forth, dripping lightly onto the floor.

Sesshoumaru's expression remained unchanged. The officer finally felt a bit on edge. He _was_ baiting a trained killer, a person so utterly inhuman that he seemed to know nothing of pain. The thought chilled him, and for the first time in all of his encounters with the icy man, he felt fearful.

With a curse, he released the man's hand and threw aside the cutter. He grabbed the radio communicator from his belt and shouted, "Lucas! Take him back to the cells. We're finished for today." Danske hastily ordered. "And bring a bandage."

The red fluid appeared terribly abnormal as it emanated from such a pale, bloodless man.

A moment later, the burly guard returned, gauze in hand.

As he wrapped it around the prisoner's finger, Danske introduced his next piece of news. "The council has granted me only two more days. Your execution date is scheduled for the day after that. Although," here he paused to increase the significance of his next words. "If you tell us what we want to know, your sentence could be pushed back a year."

Lucas had finished, and was beginning to unbuckle the straps holding the prisoner in place. Once those were off, he pulled out a set of cuffs and clicked them to his hand.

Danske sighed. "Just something for you to think about," he muttered before stepping out of the room.

Sesshoumaru lost no time. Once the sound of footsteps faded, he sprang to action. The guard, Lucas, was now in the process of untying his feet from the chair and replacing them with cuffs. Before he could click them in place, Sesshoumaru deftly wrapped the thin, metal chain dangling from the cuffs on his wrists around the man's neck and gave it a hard twist.

Red blood seeped from the jugular of the guard's neck, and he choked futilely, gasping for a brief moment before falling unconscious to the floor, a half inch gauge now in his throat.

Sesshoumaru quickly unsecured the chain on his foot, but didn't bother rummaging for the keys to his handcuffs. The cell was secured with a camera; security would have seen him, and within seconds the place would be swarming with armed officers.

He rushed out of the room and down the hallway, following the sign for the exit. Unfortunately, he was on the third floor, two flights above the main doors. Fire escapes would have been an option, but he didn't know where the nearest one was.

By now, the shouts of officers were emerging. He headed for the stairwell, leaping down an entire flight and landing gracefully on his fours limbs even with the cuffs on his hands. His left arm, the one that had been shot, twinged slightly, but not enough to slow him. He did this again for the next flight, but heard the shouts of officers at the bottom of the steps. He scrambled back, but shouts were emerging from the top of the steps as well.

Closed in, that left him little alternative but to fight.

He plunged downward, rushing headlong into a troop of officers. One released a shot, which he barely dodged. It pierced through the weak metal of the banister.

The shouts from above were getting louder, excited by the gunshot below. Sesshoumaru ducked, plowing through the officers in a flurry of kicks.

He fled down the next flight, only to find still more officers. One more to go, he thought grimly. He expertly wove through this coalition, knocking down three men.

The stairwell exit! He jerked it open, taking off without thought. A hand grabbed onto his robe and yanked; he retaliated with a deadly smack and kick.

The great doors lay within sight, blockaded by another small order of troops. They were never ending, it seemed.

This group didn't pause, but began firing upon sight of him.

He grimaced as he felt a red hot lance of pain shoot through his calf; felt rather than heard the rip of muscle and shattering of bone. Somewhere in the background, he heard a girl scream.

But he plowed on. He was too close, had gone too far to simply stop, to submit. He'd rather die than return, would rather leave the world struggling to escape than calmly waiting to die.

He had to continue. Inflamed by a maniacal desire to live, to pass through, he rushed through the troops before him, a flurry of red and silver.

He couldn't feel his leg, but that didn't matter. It would support him, he would make it.

The main door was almost within grasp...there! He had the handle! With a supreme twist, he leaped outside, then ran, ran with all the blood and life left in his heart.

And that's when another bullet struck him, piercing through his back and through his chest. The pain branched through him, spreading agony to his heart, his lungs, his stomach...everything suddenly hurt.

He thought he was still running, but he was no longer certain. The world tipped, it swayed dizzily, or maybe that was him.

Finally, after God knows how long, he breathed in, only to find that he couldn't.

The last thing he saw before he collapsed, before the life fled from his limbs, from his heart, was a fiery blaze, a conflagration consuming everything within sight, consuming him.

And then a figure grinned down at him with a painfully familiar face, taking no notice of the flames engulfing the world.

"_I've returned..."_

* * *

AN: Do review with your thoughts. I welcome critique, be it good or bad.


	5. Before the Dawn

**Chapter 5: Before the Dawn**

He awoke painfully, feeling as though his chest and legs were ablaze. For a moment, the world swam, forcing him to close his eyes again.

"Your injuries were grievous," came a low, decidedly female voice. "An unfortunate development for us all, I believe."

Sesshoumaru's eyes flashed open, and he painfully maneuvered his neck to find the source of the voice, but to no avail. A spasm of pain ran down his chest, circulating through his entire body.

"Though you will suffer the greatest pain, I'm sure," the voice continued. "Remain still, unnecessary movements will not aide the recovery process."

Sesshoumaru obliged reluctantly, then felt for his voice. "Show yourself," he ordered, voice hoarse with effort.

The person clucked. **"**Don't be obnoxious. I hold complete control over you, including your pain killers."

Sesshoumaru growled softly. "Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.

The soft thud of footsteps neared him. "Call me Kagura," said the voice. "And don't worry, I'm not part of the Tokyo PD. As a matter of fact, I rescued you from them."

"Why?" he asked, voice laced with suspicion.

The nearing figure sighed. "You'll find out soon enough. In a week, I reckon. After you can stand up again."

Sesshoumaru could now see the owner of the voice, a woman with ruby colored eyes and a soft scowl on her face.

"You were not supposed to have been hurt," she muttered, then reached out a pale hand to his cheek. He leaned away from it, to which she responded with a chuckle.

"No need for shyness, Sesshoumaru. I was the one who dressed your wounds. Consider yourself honored."

Before Sesshoumaru could demand how she knew his name, a sharp point was embedded in his arm.

"Sleep well," the woman murmured.

And he lapsed into unconsciousness again.

* * *

After work on Tuesdays, Kagome always went shopping. Sango was inept at any domestic task except cleaning (courtesy of her janitorial job), which left Kagome in charge of buying groceries, cooking, and making the deadlines for their rent and bills.

By the time she finished straightening out the files on her desk and organized her briefcase, the sky had already darkened.

Stupid short days, she though miserably. It made it hard to get anything done, especially considering the rising crime rate in the city.

She gathered her briefcase and stepped out the door, only to regret the action almost immediately. The instant her foot left the shrine floor, the paranoia that had been brooding all week swooped in again, stronger than ever.

There was someone watching her. She could _feel_ their hidden gaze.

She glanced around anxiously. Nothing.

She darted quickly to her car, tossing in the briefcase and slamming the door shut before hastily revving the car. She drove off, tires screeching, gradually relaxing as the distance between her and the invisible eyes grew.

There was an off chance that she was going crazy, Kagome reflected. Paranoia did _not_ last an entire week, especially without any reasonable cause. Maybe the article she'd submitted, or the recent murders in the city, or the dismally corrupt condition of the police force were contributing to her rising stress level, thus making her antsy. Maybe shopping wasn't such a good idea tonight.

A moment later, Kagome discovered another problem.

She was being followed.

Every glance she shot at her rearview mirror revealed the same black sedan, headlights dimmed, trailing directly behind her. She turned one way, it turned the same. Aside from that, the car didn't do anything else. It didn't attempt to maneuver her off the road or to rear end her.

A thought suddenly struck her. What if the person inside was waiting for her to go home? What if they were planning on cornering her there, or attacking Sango?

Shopping it was, then, she decided grimly. Maybe in the crowded regions of the city, she could lose the car, although she wasn't having much luck as it was.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the only supermarket still open past eight, only to groan in disappointment. Only a few people were there, stragglers mostly. The city wasn't kind at night; almost everyone chose to get their shopping done in the day, when walking or biking wasn't dangerous.

Still, better than nothing. She parked beside a set of payphones, trying to appear calm as she reached for her purse and switched off the engine.

She cast a furtive glance behind her, only to see nothing. Feeling relieved, she opened the door, stepping into the night air. The row of black payphones appeared oddly sinister in the darkness, made worse by the fear prickling at the edge of her senses.

The world seemed awfully silent.

Calmly, shoving back her emotions, she reached for her purse and stepped into the cold night air.

A phone suddenly rang.

She jumped, heart pounding as she looked for the source of the sound. No, her cell phone was set on silent...

It was coming from the row of pay phones.

She froze, the air seeming to condense with each ring.

Her brain flickered into action again, and she forced herself to run, run towards the lighted doors of the store. As she did so, she thought she heard a car pull to a stop behind her, but she couldn't be sure.

_Help!_ she thought desperately, opening the store door. _I need to call for help!_

The police swept through her mind, only to be quickly dismissed. These days, simple cases required licenses, and every call cost a small fortune. Only the wealthy could now afford to use the police for any sort of service.

Maybe she could contact Sango. Of course, the girl didn't own a car (she biked to work everyday) but there was little else to do, so Kagome shakily pulled her phone from her purse. But before she could open it, it rang.

She hesitated, the incident outside still fresh on her mind, then shook herself and answered it.

"Hello?"

Silence. Then, an artfully deep voice broke in. "Kagome?"

She frowned. Only Sango, her mother, and Souta called her by her first name. This voice was both unnatural and unfamiliar. "Yes...who is this?"

"You will meet me again soon. Tonight, you will be recruited. Don't be afraid."

An automated _click_ was heard, then silence. The person was gone.

The fear that she had barely suppressed came free, leaving her shaking. Not wishing to draw attention, and mainly just wanting to hide, she walked into an aisle of canned goods, unconsciously picking up and pretending to read the labels on a few of them.

This was getting out of hand. She had to contact someone, _now. _She opened her phone again, automatically entering Sango's cell number, then put the receiver to her ear.

Silence.

She peered down curiously, only to blink in confusion.

Her phone was dead. Well, not really. The battery was still on, and it glowed, but there was no reception. Strange. Especially since that call...

...had probably caused it, she thought with a groan. She wasn't sure how, but that man had something to do with the black sedan following her and with the now unusable phone.

Her mind flicked back to his words. What had he meant by meet _again?_ Had she met him before? But that couldn't be possible. No man she knew had her number, plus she hadn't spoken with anyone outside of her patients in months.

Her patients…her eyes widened. Mr. Okawa. Maybe…but no…

She shook those thoughts aside. He was unstable, but he certainly couldn't have planned such an elaborate ruse. And what had the man meant by _recruited_?

Maybe the store has a phone, she thought desperately. She hastily went over to the front service booth, and asked the lady seated.

"Sorry hun, but the phone lines here stopped working about twenty minutes ago. You can try the payphones outside."

She thanked her, then doubled back into the aisle. By now, panic was flooding through her. There was no escape. Whoever was out to get her had shut down every available avenue, leaving her as helpless as a trapped mouse.

She had nowhere to go but out; nothing to do but hope that somehow the car would have gone.

Casually, she purchased a carton of milk and a couple of the cans she'd been listlessly reading, then gathered courage and stepped quickly out of the store. She walked resolutely back to her car, not stopping until she was directly by it.

The street was empty.

Relief, quickly followed by panic, filled her mind. Deserted meant no car stalkers, unless they were hiding. She set the groceries on the floor by the trunk, only to jump in shock as a voice called from directly behind her.

"Miss Higurashi?" asked a man.

She tried to remain calm, gouging her brain for self-defense techniques. Useless, she was sure, but worth a try.

"Miss Higurashi?"

She wondered if she could outrun this person. Unlikely, as she was wearing heels.

"There is something important we must discuss with you."

Kagome snapped. She whirled around and shouted, "Leave me alone! Why are you following me?"

The figure, she observed, was dressed in a suit. He was accompanied by two others, each wearing large sunglasses that hid their eyes. Sunglasses at night. She almost snorted.

He paused for a moment, only to reply smoothly, "There is nothing to fear. We are not planning to hurt you. In fact, we need your help."

She did her best to look intimidating despite her pounding heart, putting on the worst scowl she could imagine. "What do you mean by that? And what if I don't care to help?"

"I'm sorry Ms Higurashi, but you are far too valuable to the cause for us to simply allow you to walk away." the man spoke softly, eloquently. "If you please, will you come with us to discuss further?" He gestured with his hands at a shaded alley by the market.

Kagome stiffened. "I won't do a thing until you tell me what this is all about."

The man paused, then allowed his hands to rest by his side. "An explanation will certainly be imparted. But first, please move with us to a more private area."

"Like hell I'm falling for that," Kagome retorted.

The man sighed. "Please do not be difficult. We do not wish to force you against your will. So please, just follow us over."

Kagome considered, glancing tentatively at the large figures beside the speaker. "Alright then, but make it quick," she murmured in resignation. If they wanted her dead, there was little she could do. "Lead on."

He bowed and started over towards the dark alleyway by the store. The two guards waited for her to follow, then stood on either side, discouraging any thought of desertion.

Once in the quiet, dark opening, Kagome motioned to him. "Start explaining," she directed.

"We first received orders to follow you last week," the apparent spokesperson explained. "The boss told us to investigate your background, to learn where you stood in the political spectrum."

So she hadn't been going mad. "Who's your boss?" she asked.

All three remained astute. "We cannot disclose such information. However, you will gain the opportunity to meet him, in the near future."

Could he have been the man on the phone? Before she could dwell on that thought, the man continued, "We represent the Hastings League, rebels of the new Republic and all of its institutes. I believe you published an article on one of our productions, _The AG_."

Kagome groaned, replaying Sango's words from a few nights ago in her mind. She had been right. "So this is why I'm here, because I submitted that article," she declared dejectedly.

"I assure you, we had an eye on you far before that. The boss has held a special interest in you for a while. But, regardless of how why we are here, our motives coincide with your own. We are a group who advocates the rights of the citizens, and the reformation of a corrupt society. We seek to renew and improve the current Republic. Is that not your same wish?"

He paused, as though to give her time to digest the information.

"Now, will you come willingly with us?" he asked gently.

Kagome considered what she'd just heard. Their words…they appealed to her, despite the shady location and the intimidating crew. It was impossible…but maybe, just maybe, if she went along she could go on and do something for a _purpose_. Live for a more substantial cause.

"Yes," she finally said. "What will I need to do?"

The man nodded approvingly. "The League offers you one month to settle your affairs. Exactly thirty days from today we will bring you to your new home. Bring nothing but the barest essentials; everything else will be provided for you."

Together, they walked out of the alley. Kagome's fear had disappeared; they wouldn't hurt her, they were on the same side as her. That was comforting. Just before they reached her car, the spokesman added, "Tell no one of this conversation, or of your true reason for absence." And then they were gone, leaving her to stare dazedly at the grocery bags still sitting outside her car.

* * *

Kagome drove back home in a daze, hardly noticing her surroundings.

She had no idea how she was going to break it to Sango. Obviously, she needed a convincing story. Maybe that she was returning home? But then her mother might call the apartment... Her heart twisted at the thought. It didn't seem like she would be able to visit mama or Souta after all. In some ways, that was a relief.

She'd also have to shut down her clinic. Poor Mr. Okawa. Her mind snapped at the thought.

"_He'll be coming for you.."_

Had he known? He'd said that a week ago, the same time as the Hastings League claimed they'd been told to follow her.

She would have to ask once she became a member of the team, she supposed.

Mind blank, she pulled in to the parking lot of the apartment complex. Sango should be home now.

Sighing, she picked up the bag of groceries from the passenger seat, realizing that she'd forgotten to purchase bread. Ah well.

She climbed up the stairs and stood uncertainly before the door. What to say?

Sighing, she unlocked the door and called out "I'm home!"

Sango fairly leaped towards her. "Why are you so late today?" she demanded.

Kagome managed a small smile. "Long lines at the grocery store."

The other girl nodded, then peered suspiciously at her. "At this hour?"

"Yeah, strange huh?" Kagome lied.

"I don't believe you," Sango countered. "Let me guess- you actually went on a secret fling with a hot date!"

"No!" Kagome cried in exasperation.

"Just kidding," Sango mumbled. "I know you too well to think that. Well, it's good that you're safe at any rate."

Kagome felt a little guilty. She went into the kitchen and put away the milk and the cans. What had she been thinking? One can of beans, two of mushrooms, and one of spaghetti. Useless without pasta or rice. She would have to go back soon if they planned on eating.

Although she would be gone in a week.

She stepped back out to the living room where Sango sat watching TV.

"Hey Sango," she began, but the other girl only exclaimed back excitedly at her.

"Guess what Kagome! Remember that Greek god?"

No, she didn't.

"The serial killer?"

Ah.

"He escaped from prison."

"_What?_" Kagome cried out, her own issues temporarily forgotten as she plumped down on the sofa beside her friend.

"Yeah, apparently the media just found out. It happened a week or so ago."

The news clip was currently interviewing the man who had been assigned to the killer.

"_He killed the guard who was trying to move him and then ran out. But he couldn't have gotten too far, we gave him a shot to the leg and the chest. By all means, he should already be dead."_

"What do they mean by _should_ be?" Kagome demanded.

The interviewer seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "_Did you see him die after he ran?_"

The man shook his head. _"No. It's something none of us can understand. One minute he was limping out shot and near collapse, and the next he just vanished. It's likely he had croonies to help him out."_

Kagome stared in bewilderment. "How can anyone just vanish on cement in clear daylight?"

Sango shook her head. "It's possible the police are making a cover-up. Or maybe he flew away. Angel, don't you know." She sighed contentedly.

"Right, because all serial killers are secret angels, no matter how many they've murdered," Kagome bit out.

"I'm kidding Kagome! Why are you so tense right now?" Sango peered at her in suspicion.

Indeed, Kagome's hands were fisted at her side and her body unnaturally straight. She breathed in slowly. Might as well break it now.

"I'm moving out," she muttered quietly.

Sango continued to stare, confusion crossing her face. "What?"

"I'm moving out next month," Kagome continued. "I'm...I have a new job offer, but it's overseas."

Sango only looked on incredulously. "Where at?"

Good question. Kagome racked her brain.

"Australia."

Far enough out of the way so that suggested visits would be deterred.

"And you couldn't have told me this sooner?" Sango stormed. "A_ month _before you move across the world?"

"Sorry, the news just came today." Kagome winced at the expression on Sango's face.

"Are you sure though? This is ridiculous, do they even need psychologists in Australia?"

True. But of course, that was inconsequential, since she wasn't planning on working as a psychologist anywhere.

"Yeah. There's been a greater need recently. They pay pretty well."

Sango seemed to be fuming. "Fine. Now you'll just leave me without a roommate, paying rent by myself. I know you hate the country, but is running away really the right solution?"

"I'll mail you checks! I'll still cover my share, until you find a new roomie! Believe me, I'll take responsibility, since it's my fault and the last thing I want is to make trouble for you."

"Forget it." In a huff, Sango rose and headed to the bedroom.

Kagome sighed. That had gone over well.

* * *

Sesshoumaru gasped upon waking, forcibly tearing his mind from dreams of smoke and dancing flames. He was alone in the room, his bandages roughly wrapped. It still hurt to breathe, though not as much as before.

How long had he been out for?

The door opened and the same woman he'd seen before reemerged.

"Ah, awake again I see."

He peered back coolly.

"No need to look so affronted. I've saved your life." She grinned.

His expression didn't change.

"Aloof one, aren't you, White Assassin?" she smiled to see his gaze shift to uncertainty. "We rescued you because we need your help. And dare I add that we invested quite a bit into saving your body. The Dictator ordered the best doctor of the Underground to remove the bullet from your chest. It nearly took out your lung. You'll be able to kill again once it's settled."

"The Dictator?" Sesshoumaru rasped out, eyes slitting.

The woman smiled ferally. "Yes. He wants to solicit your aide."

"My aide?" Sesshoumaru echoed, voice clearing slightly. Every breath sent a pulse of pain through his body, but he fought it vigilantly.

"As a protector." Kagura pulled out a new swab of bandages and began pulling on the ones currently over his calf. "He is the most sought after man in the country, you know. Everyone, on the Surface and the Underground, wants the honor of killing him. So in short, he needs a bodyguard."

"I kill, not protect. He is a fool to entrust me with the job," Sesshoumaru growled

"You are talented. And you have never failed a mission. We will reward you well." She began rewrapping his leg. "But you need training. We are willing to invest in that."

"What training?" Sesshoumaru questioned.

"Bodyguard training, of course. There is a project coming up that the Dictator has worked hard to make possible. You will be assigned to it, and after completion, provided you pass, you'll be promoted." She finished wrapping and tied up the bandage.

"You'll find out soon enough. Give it a month." She smiled.

* * *

She hung up, exhausted. The final call, completed.

Her heart twinged slightly at the thought of closing down the clinic, after all the work she had expended to create it. What would mama and Souta do without her financial aide? The shrine would also stand empty again.

But no matter. She could always reopen in the future.

The furniture would stay, since she couldn't take it anywhere anyway.

In three days she would be officially 'recruited.' What that entailed, she remained unsure of. She didn't even know where to meet the people. And she was terrified.

But it didn't matter. She'd already agreed.

Sango had resigned herself to the matter, although she still appeared angry whenever Kagome brought up the subject of packing or leaving.

Kagome sighed. This was a disrupting turn of events. She patted farewell to the psychology texts and dictionaries on her shelf, stroked the oaken table, and exited. Once out, she got into her car and drove home for the last time.

She looked, out of habit, at where the forlorn house had once stood. Only its charred remains met her eyes, gray, ashen, and utterly dead. She looked away.

In the apartment, only her belongings remained to be packed. She wasn't sure what was meant by bare essentials. Did that include clothing?

She'd moved much of her belongings into the shrine to avoid rousing suspicion from Sango should she take only a tenth of her property with her halfway across the world. She only hoped her mom wouldn't enter the shrine again.

But after what had happened...it wasn't likely.

She pulled out her camping duffel and began stuffing things in. Three shirts, three pants. Skirts- not likely to be useful. Maybe she'd offer them to Sango. She packed her toothbrush and toothpaste, hairbrush, and wafer crackers just in case, but avoided anything of sentimental value. A family picture would do nothing but make her sad and possibly endanger her mom and Souta. She'd seen enough spy movies to know better.

So. She only had to wait out the next three days.

The next day she called her mom. When the warm voice chimed on the line, she froze. What was she to say? Would her mother believe her?

"Hello?"

"Hi mama," she managed weakly.

"Kagome! It's good to hear your voice again, so soon."

Yeah. Unlike the three month interval where she'd either conveniently miss the call or not pick up, knowing it would be her mother on the other line. She hadn't had the courage to confront her. She hadn't known what to do.

And now she was leaving her, for who knew how long.

"Is something wrong?" Matronly concern shone through her mother's voice.

"Ah...well," Kagome stammered. "I'm moving," she stated, in as casual a tone as she could manage.

Silence met her ears.

"Where to?" Her mom's voice sounded strained.

"Australia." It was a sudden, even callous spring- but she knew her mother wouldn't question it. She'd accept it, and take it as penance for the past. That didn't make Kagome feel any better.

"So far?" Kagome heard her voice crack, and her heart knotted up in guilt. Was it right, to lie to perhaps the closest person she had left? But there was no choice.

"Yeah. They have a need for a psychologist there. The pay's really good."

"So you're leaving the shrine?"

"Yeah." Please don't ask further, Kagome prayed.

"Alright." Her mom sounded distant and sad. "I don't suppose you'll see us before you go?"

Kagome paused. "No," she answered, almost picturing the heartbreak emerging on her mother's face.

"Then...be safe," her mom managed weakly. "I love you."

Breathing became hard. Kagome sucked in, but it was no use. Her eyes burned, but she resisted. It didn't matter anymore.

"Would you like to speak to Souta?" her mom asked softly.

"No, it's alright," Kagome managed.

"Take care then. Bye, Kagome." The phone clicked.

"Bye," Kagome whispered into the emptiness. She closed her eyes and breathed, feeling the wet drops roll down her cheeks. "Bye."

* * *

The new morning came sooner than she'd expected or wanted. She'd hardly slept the entire night, racked by an ever increasing sense of apprehension.

Even now, she didn't trust these people. What if they were actually workers for the government and she was to be taken and killed for her article, as others had in these times? No one would know any better.

But it didn't matter anymore, she thought dejectedly. Death, life.

Kagome rolled out of bed and dressed hurriedly. Moments later, her phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered quietly.

"Walk over to the pay phones by the convenience store. We'll be waiting."

Kagome breathed deeply, then picked up her duffel. Sango should be sleeping, or at least she hoped she was.

Outside, the living room was empty. Kagome gripped tightly at her bag, then pulled out a scrap piece of paper from the counter.

_Bye Sango. Thanks for being the best roommate ever. Wish you all the luck. _

_Kagome. _

_PS: I won't need the keys anymore. Make good use of them._

She pulled out her keychain, containing both the house and car keys, but ripped off the key to the shrine.

Quietly she stepped out of the house and plodded down the steps from her apartment. By the bushes downstairs, she paused, then stooped over and dug into the dirt with her hands. She placed the shrine key into the circular hole and covered it up. If she ever returned, she'd redeem it.

She stood up and began walking over to the convenience store. The sky line was still dark, with only a twinge of pink beginning to surface. The building stood deserted, not yet open for the day. She went over to the line of three pay phones.

No sooner had she stood there then the one to the far left rang. Without hesitation she picked up.

"Hello?"

Silence. Then it clicked shut.

The one in the middle rang. Quickly hanging up the one in her hand, she picked up the next phone.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

"I'm waiting here," she said quickly. "What do I need to do?"

The right one rang.

"Oh for the love of..." she sighed then quickly took up the next phone.

"What do you want me to do?" She blurted quickly before it too could go dead.

"Relax." said the voice, deep and robotic. "When you wake, you'll see."

"What?" but no sooner had she asked that then she felt something prick her arm at the same time as a cloth was held to her mouth. She swayed, eyesight blurring, seeing nothing but a dark figure beside her until the world turned.

* * *

Sesshoumaru didn't understand what his training had to do with a new house. His own, to completely recover in, so they said. But he knew better. They had a plan for him. The Underground never did things without conditions.

But he followed the orders, partly because he could still barely walk on his own and partly because he understood that if he didn't, they would kill him. Disobedient people were all too disposable in the world of criminals.

The house lay in the outskirts of the city, far enough to where it was secluded but near enough for easy reach to the Underground. It appeared innocent enough, wooden and sturdy looking. There were two bedrooms, the reason which was soon clarified by Kagura.

"You'll have company," she said ambivalently, a small grin tugging on her face. "Think of it as a test."

Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes but made no response. He walked slowly up the steps, disregarding the pain that shot through his chest. The small sitting room was empty. Kagura followed him in and motioned to the room.

"It's fully supplied for your convenience. Pots, food, even extra robes and undergarments." She smirked. "Your housemate's currently unconscious, so feel free to explore."

He didn't so much as blink at her words. Instead, he walked over to the first door in sight and opened it. It was an empty bedroom, completely furnished. He stepped inside and clicked the door shut behind him. Delicately, he lowered himself onto the bed and closed his eyes. Now, there was nothing to do but bide his time.

* * *

_**Author's Corner**_

Congrats on making through the build-up chapters! Next one, I promise they'll finally meet. Also, I've decided to put Miroku in- I'm still working on his part. You might not recognize him at first, or at least I hope not.

Lastly, perhaps you're thinking you have it figured out- Naraku is the dictator, right? To that, I can only answer...maybe. However, it's likely that there's someone (or some people) far more consequential involved in this...


	6. Into the Den

**Chapter 6: Into the Den**

Kagome woke up with the fervent wish that she'd stayed unconscious. Her body was trembling without control. Her head throbbed and dry heaves rose from her empty stomach to her throat. The scene swam in front of her, making her eyes hurt and intensifying the pain in her head.

She closed her eyes. A moment later, she reopened them, vision now clear enough to get a general layout of the room. She was lying haphazardly, in a diagonal fashion across the cot, as though the person who'd carried her had simply thrown her on. There was a wardrobe by the wall and a nightstand with a lamp on the right side of the bed.

She swallowed and forced herself up. The nausea rose again and she crouched down, squeezing her eyes shut as she fought the urge to throw up. The feeling abated slightly and she stood, walking over to the wardrobe.

Her suitcase sat inside, besides a brown coat and a suit. In the drawers she found a brush and gloves.

She made her way to the door and opened it with a _creek_. A narrow hallway opened to her right, and at the end she could see a small kitchen and living room. Across from her stood another doorway and further down was a bathroom. She ignored the closer door and walked tentatively into the bathroom. With surprise, she noted that there were two toothbrushes on the counter, both still wrapped. She quickly splashed water on her face before heading back out and down the hall. The wooden sitting room was stocked with a couch and a table with two chairs. She stepped into the adjoining kitchen. Still shivering slightly, she opened one of the cabinets. Cans- beans, corn, and soup. Next to that was a set of silverware.

Shakily, she grabbed a cup and filled it with water from the faucet. She drank heavily, not feeling much better.

Back in the hallway, she stared hesitantly at the door across from her own. Perhaps there was someone else in the house?

Courageously, she knocked. "Hello?" she called out.

No response.

Gingerly, she twisted the handle and the door creaked open. She almost shut it again, in horror at the sight in front of her. In the center of the room stood a bed, and on the bed was a white figure, so pale that she half feared it was a corpse. There was no movement, and blood-soaked bandages lay strewn about the floor.

Fighting the urge to turn around and run away, Kagome walked closer to the figure. A very beautiful, delicate face lay on the pillow, eyes closed.

He looked familiar. Very, deadly familiar.

With a sudden suck of air, Kagome flung herself back, heart racing.

The serial killer. She had found the serial killer. She ran back to her room and frantically opened the wardrobe. Her cell phone- she had to call the police. She searched the pockets of her hanging jacket, and when those turned up empty, flung open her suitcase, but it was no use. Her phone- her phone was gone. Where could it be? She'd had it when she left the apartment- and then-

They took it. She was willing to bet anything that they had it now, whoever had brought her here.

They had planned to murder her all along. It had been a plot, to bring her here next to an accomplished serial killer, have him murder her and then dispose of the body.

Her heart pounding, she looked around frantically for a weapon, anything that might serve as some deterrent against a trained killer.

Her eyes lit upon the lamp. She scrambled over and was in the process of tugging the cord from the socket when a bone-chilling, slightly raspy voice sounded behind her.

"Spare your efforts. I have no intention of hurting you."

She stopped, chest still heaving, the temporary adrenaline rush clearing away the pain from her body. She slowly turned her body towards the doorway. There he stood, looking slightly pained but still terribly formidable, silver hair neatly cascading down his back. He wore a white robe, and from beneath the open collar she caught what appeared to be a cloth bandage on his chest.

"You're- you're the assassin, aren't you?" she whispered, not daring to move.

There was a pause. "Yes."

"So, how can I believe that you won't kill me?" she asked, voice slightly stronger.

"You cannot." His voice was elegant but flat, almost painfully devoid of emotion.

"Will you?" she pressed softly.

His gold eyes penetrated her own. "To reiterate what I said, your death is not my responsibility."

She swallowed at the cold innuendo behind the words. "Then if you're not here to get rid of me, why are you here?" Or why did they bring me here, she added to herself.

He peered back expressionlessly. "I know as much as you. Choose any conclusion you desire."

Without another word, he turned and left, limping slightly. Kagome heard the door across the hall click shut. She slumped back against the wall.

What the….why in the world was a serial killer across the room from her? Perhaps, she thought, he had been brought here as well. Which raised the issue again of what purpose the Hastings League had in store for her.

The only answer that her still-frazzled brain could come up with was that this was somehow designed to test her. Somehow, she had to survive through whatever they had planned.

And what to do in the meantime? She stared blankly at the wall before her. Her stomach felt empty, but she had no appetite. She walked over to where she had thrown her suitcase on the ground and mechanically began going through it in a more orderly fashion. She hung up her woefully small collection of clothes, removed her toiletries and crackers.

Then she stared some more at the wall.

* * *

A few hours later, Kagome couldn't tolerate it any longer. She had to do something, anything. She gingerly stepped into the hallway, checking to make sure that the door across was shut. She tried listening for movement inside, but there was nothing.

Sighing softly, she walked into the kitchen. She might as well eat.

The supplies were fairly shoddy. The fridge was empty except for a bottle of juice while the cabinets held nothing but cans. It oddly resembled the same supplies she had purchased just days ago. She wondered how they would get more food once this ran out.

She took out two cans of beans and found a skillet in one of the drawers. There were two bottles of salt and pepper. Unable to find a can opener, she took a knife and forcibly cut open the tops of the cans, then dumped the contents into the pan. It didn't look appetizing, but it would do.

Once heated, she searched the cabinets for a bowl and grabbed one out. She spooned some of the beans into it and set it down, then poured herself a glass of juice. Quickly and half fearfully she ate her meal, afraid that he'd suddenly emerge.

As she was about to place the remaining bowl of beans in the fridge, a thought struck her. Well- he had to eat too, right? Would it be wrong to cook for a serial killer? Although, she reflected, it wouldn't make much of a difference. He could just cook his own beans.

She left the beans out, then went back to her room and closed the door.

She lay down on her bed and closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep. Nevertheless, it was hours until she finally did. She never heard any movement from the room next door.

The following morning, as she lay upon her bed, Kagome considered how long she could sit here before she went out of her mind. Perhaps this was a psychological test, she considered, an analysis of her mental endurance. Well, being a psychologist gave her certain advantages on that. She knew the symptoms of extended solitude and lack of stimulation. She'd just have to avoid letting her mind and body rest too long.

Determined now, she got off the bed and began doing sit-ups on the floor. When that became tiring, she went on to push-ups, then jumping jacks (as quietly as possible, to avoid provoking her neighbor), followed by stretches. They didn't take very long, as she was woefully unfit. But she felt better, more stimulated. Quietly, she opened her door and started down the hallway, then froze as she saw a flash of white out in the sitting room.

There he sat, looking like a regal king in his elaborate robes and flowing hair. How, she wondered, was it even practical to kill with hair that long? Wasn't that an athletic hazard? A ponytail then, she deduced.

He was seated on the sofa, apparently reading a book. Had there been books here before? She hadn't noticed. Kagome swallowed and steadily made her way for the kitchen, trying to be as unobtrusive and quiet as possible. The beans, she saw as she passed the table were untouched. Oh well. They would be her breakfast. But they had been out all night...

Oh whatever.

She grabbed the bowl and pulled out a fork, then headed back out to the table. He hadn't so much as moved a hair. Gathering her courage about her, she said as cheerily as possible, "Good morning." He offered no response.

Feeling extremely awkward, but not willing to wait much longer, Kagome stuck her fork into the beans and began eating. She then paused and took note of his figure. What to say, she wondered.

"Um…do you want to eat something?" she asked tentatively.

He turned his head ever so slightly, and for a moment, his golden eyes met hers. "I already have."

"Oh." Curiously, she asked, "What did you have?"

He seemed to debate on whether or not to answer such a menial question. "Juice," he finally replied, the mundane word sounding a bit strange from his lips.

"Ah." Kagome continued eating. After she finished, she washed her bowl and returned to the table, not wanting to go back to her room but too nervous to stay for long in his company. But he wasn't planning to hurt her, she considered, and there wasn't much else to do, so maybe it would be okay to talk to him. He was a fascinating figure, and she was curious. In a way, she felt as if she were before a client.

"What's your name?" she asked after a little hesitation.

He didn't answer.

"I'm Kagome," she weakly continued. Still no response.

"I saw you in the news," she blurted out, then berated herself for the bluntness of her words.

"And?" his cold voice rang out. "Do you still fear I will kill you?"

She paused and considered. "I'd be an idiot not to be scared," she responded. "But even though I can't be sure why you're here, I can tell you that I'm here because I refuse to swallow all of the crap the government feeds us, including police reports. I think that you must have had your own reasons for...everything."

He said nothing. She reckoned that his word quota for the day had already been used up.

"At any rate, we're here together now. I was recruited because I want to fight the government. You don't need to tell me your reasons, but I figure there's something that we must have in common for this."

"The Underground," he suddenly said.

Kagome blinked. "The what?"

"That's why I'm here."

She prodded her mind for memories associated with the words. Underground- was that some sort of criminal term? It sounded vaguely familiar.

"This is a game to them," he spat out with the first touch of emotion that Kagome had yet observed on his unmoving face. Anger. So he wasn't here willingly.

"If you don't mind me asking," she began tentatively, "how did you escape from the police?"

His face was impassive again. "I don't remember." He abruptly stood up, and without a word walked towards Kagome. She sat frozen until he had passed her. She heard the door to his room click shut.

_Progress_, her mind sang with a certain degree of triumph. Maybe her time here wouldn't be wasted. Maybe, she could use it to understand the mind of one of the most dangerous individuals alive. _She_ could at last comprehend what inspired and drew people such as him to their gory occupations.

Kagome allowed herself a small smile. Out of curiosity, she headed towards where he'd been seated just moments before. He'd left behind the book he'd been looking at.

She frowned as she picked it up. It wasn't a book; it was a manual.

_Bodyguard Basics._ Her brow furrowed. Was this to be his new occupation? A bodyguard?

Only one way to find out, she thought with a faint smile.

* * *

She spent the remaining afternoon pulling all available supplies from the kitchen. It seemed they weren't just limited to beans, she discovered with relief after combing through all drawers and cabinets. In total, they had about five pounds of rice, a bag of pasta, cans of beans, corn, diced tomatoes, some oil, salt, and pepper. Very basic and cheap staples, she grimaced, but perhaps enough to work with.

With the ingredients for the evening set aside, she whiled away the rest of the afternoon by flipping through a couple pages of the manual. Who knew there were so many guidelines, she thought. Detailed descriptions down to the very distance that the bodyguard was to stand from the principle. She flipped forward and read a few technique pages with morbid fascination, such as how to disarm an opponent with bare hands.

In all that time, she heard not a stir from the hallway, and from the corner of her eyes, she noted that the door never opened. Did he not ever have to use the restroom, she wondered. Perhaps it was a mental thing. He didn't appear to eat or drink much either, which couldn't be good. From the looks of the blood-soaked bandages in the room, he was injured, perhaps severely given the hoarse quality of his voice and the rasping of his breathing. _Shot in the leg and chest_ her mind recalled. Good grief, how was someone shot twice less than a month ago moving around at all? Maybe that's why he was so absent.

That evening, she set down the manual and began cooking. Pasta, she'd decided to make. It was about the only plausible thing to cook, given the food available.

She carefully prepared a sauce from the diced tomatoes and beans, adding liberal doses of salt and pepper to compensate for the lack of more flavorful ingredients. The noodles bubbled beside the sauce in an old kettle.

When everything was finished, she scooped the noodles with some sauce onto two plates and set them on the table. She filled up two cups of water and added forks to improve the presentation.

Finished. The only thing missing was the person. She tried to fight off dread.

She walked over to his door and raised a hand, knocking gently. No response came from inside. "Excuse me?" she ventured. "I made dinner and thought you might be hungry."

Nothing. Well, that wasn't about to stop her.

"I'm coming in," she called out, then turned the handle. Gingerly, as though expecting an attack (which wasn't entirely improbable), Kagome peeked her head around the doorframe.

He was inside, she noted with slight relief, sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed in what appeared to be a meditative position.

As she stepped in, his eyes slid open, pinning his paranormal amber gaze upon her. His sharp profile appeared almost mystical in the dusk light, and it was all Kagome could do to keep from running back out in embarrassment at intruding.

"Dinner's ready," she said softly. "I'm sorry if I bothered you, but it might be good for you to eat something."

He made no move, only continue to stare at her as though trying to determine her motives.

"I'll meet you out there then," she said, stepping away from his gaze. She didn't close his door, reasoning that that would only further deter him.

She sat down in the chair facing towards the hallway and wondered if she was going to have to dine alone, as usual.

Then without warning, the white robed figure stepped out and slid fluidly into the chair across from her. She blinked. He didn't look at her, only picking up his fork and delicately prodding at the pasta dish before him.

"Sorry, it was the best I could do with the supplies," she apologized, shriveling in fear of critique.

He glanced up at her, the scrutinizing gaze causing her pulse to quicken. There was a thin blue line running diagonally by his left eye, she noted almost dazedly. A vein, perhaps the only notable imperfection evident, if it could be considered such. Its presence only accentuated the translucency of his skin.

His voice broke abruptly into her musings. "You apologize too much," he stated directly, before skillfully twirling the pasta onto the fork. She noticed chillingly the lacerations on his middle finger, at least ten parallel cuts, now lightly scabbed. She lifted her eyes to his face, deciding it would be better not to ask. And besides, she felt she already knew.

He chewed slowly, almost unnoticeably before swallowing.

"Uh…does it taste alright?" she asked hesitantly.

"Bearable," came the simple reply. It didn't sound altogether unpleasant; perhaps this was his way of admitting satisfaction?

"Good to hear," she mumbled, then picked up her fork and began eating. There was almost a painful difference between the way they ate, she noted with some degree of shame. There he sat, a literal serial killer, eating more elegantly than anyone else she'd ever seen. It felt oddly incongruous, not that she'd expected barbaric bare-hand eating, but still...

She shook those thoughts aside and focused in on the opportunity before her. "I hope you don't mind that I was reading your manual," she motioned to the bodyguard book on the couch behind her.

His eyes flickered over briefly before connecting with hers. "Read it if you please."

Simple, curt answers. So that was his way of communicating, Kagome's mind whirled in comprehension.

"Are you planning on changing careers to become a bodyguard?" _Careers._ Such a banal word, she thought.

"That's not your concern."

"No, no it's not," Kagome added. "But I'd like to know nonetheless. If I can, I'd like to get a better understanding of why they put me here with you."

His eyes were flickering with an emotion- annoyance, she realized. Better back off so as to not to provoke him.

"If your only means of doing that is by interrogating me, I'd recommend you cease at once. As I said before, I know nothing."

He was nearly glowering in irritation, Kagome noted nervously.

"Sor- I mean, I don't mean to interrogate. I just want to know you better, become acquaintances, if you will."

He made no reply. She noticed that he'd stop eating.

"Please finish. I know you're hurt, so you should eat more to speed up the recovery."

His golden eyes pierced through hers.

"I took a bullet to the chest," he suddenly stated, voice hardly above a whisper. "That's one thing you were curious about, correct? I was put here to recover. I don't know why you're with me, only that this is all a test planned by the Underground. The Dictator is behind it all, he wants me as a bodyguard."

He abruptly pushed his chair back and stood up. "Now you know what I do," he added harshly, then heading back towards his door. Pausing outside the room, he ordered, "Do not ever enter again." The door shut loudly behind him.

Kagome sucked in a breath, feeling goosebumps rise on her arms. This would be tough. Excruciatingly so, perhaps.

But she wasn't about to give up.

* * *

What had driven him to the sudden confession, she wondered, now alone in her room. It was hardly strategic to give away all his cards, especially not to a strange girl who could be a spy for all he knew.

Although, if she had been, he must have reasoned that she'd be part of that almost-surreal Underground. And he hadn't said anything they didn't seem to already know.

Her brow furrowed. She did more sit-ups, passing away the overabundant time. There had to be something she could do to reduce the distance he was determined to maintain. Nothing she couldn't counter right?

The back of her mind was screaming at her to stop, that this was suicidal. "Suicidalness is what got me here in the first place," she muttered to herself.

The next morning, after a hasty shower, she crept out into the living room. He was there, she noted with satisfaction, reading the manual exactly as he had the day before. It was almost as though he was already bound to a set routine. Well, that made things easier.

"Good morning," she called out, some shyness already lost despite last night's slight failure. Not surprisingly, he failed to respond.

She walked slowly over, gauging his face for a reaction. He didn't look up once from the text, not until she was seated beside him. Even then, she was only rewarded with a single cool glance before he returned his gaze to the text.

Conversation, Kagome ordered herself. She peered at the manual. "The moves in that are fascinating," she began as cheerily as possible. "I never knew how much it takes to bodyguard before."

"Do you think this is all a game?" His harsh voice broke out, immediately shattering the image of tranquility and friendliness that Kagome had been hoping to receive from him.

"N-no," she replied quickly.

"You said you're here because you're against the government." His eyes were now peering into hers. She nodded slightly, almost frightened to move.

"You know nothing," he growled. "Do you think whoever brought you here is planning to have you pick flowers and throw them against the capital walls?"

"No- I was rather hoping they'd utilize my writing and research skills," she answered honestly, and had the situation been less dire, she might have marveled at the fact that his words had almost been humorous. Almost- if you excluded the "DIE fool" undertone.

His eyes had narrowed to slits.

"The world you're in has no desk jobs. Whatever you'll be doing, without exception, will be dangerous. Realize that now, and get out while you can. Don't put your head where it'll be cut off." The voice was bitingly acerbic.

Kagome gulped. "Thanks," she managed weakly. "I'll keep that in mind." All thoughts of making amends had been driven from her thoughts. She stood shakily and headed back to her room, forgetting to even get breakfast. Inside, she huddled against the closed door, peering listlessly in front of her.

It was true, everything he'd said. She'd been deluding herself into thinking that the League would offer her a secure, innocent position. Were there even such jobs anymore, she wondered, only to groan with realization. Yes, there had been. She'd held one, and she'd thrown it away.

_But I couldn't just sit and pretend like I don't comprehend what the world's become_, she told herself resolutely. But even so….

Dead. I'm going to die, she thought grimly. She noted that her left eye was moist. Strange, I don't feel like crying, she thought absently, carelessly placing a finger over the eye.

Her right eye was dry, she realized, the same moment that a tear ran down her left. Must be allergies, she thought absently.

She sucked in a breath. This wouldn't work. There was nothing to do but keep trying.

* * *

Sesshoumaru was tired. Tired in a way that went beyond the ache in his chest or the listlessness floating through his body.

He needed to get out of here. And he'd tried. He'd turned the knob on the door, only to find that it'd been locked from the outside. That wouldn't have stopped him, had he have had his sword and his strength. But now, the iron door was near impossible to penetrate.

He was trapped in this airless, windowless house. It was suffocating. And the girl wasn't making matters much better. She was a fool; he'd noted that on the first day. A naïve, ridiculously optimistic fool, no matter what she tried to say. It galled him to be trapped with such a presence.

He was willing to bet that the Underground was watching him even now, observing his every response and expression. The cameras were hidden, but they were here nonetheless. He could sense it.

He set down the manual in frustration and headed back to his room. But before he could disappear inside, the girl's door suddenly swung open. Her eyes widened when she saw him, but to his surprise, she quickly closed the distance between them, until she stood directly before him.

"Er…I want to apologize," she said quickly. "I realize you think I apologize too much, and I do. But this time I think it's warranted- it's not right for me to prod into your affairs. I've been trying to get you to speak, without realizing how irritating that must be for you."

He moved to step into his room, away from her garbling.

"Wait!" She interjected, bringing an arm between him and his room. He resisted the urge to twist her neck there and then. No, they would be watching, he warned himself. They must be testing his control.

So he refrained. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and pinned them to her grey ones, which were now wide with fear.

"Move," he commanded, voice cutting like steel.

She obeyed, but not before adding, "Hear me out, will you?"

He brushed past her and stepped into the room. He was about to slam the door when her next words rang out.

"I'm a psychologist. I wrote an article that was published in _The AG_, which is why the Hastings League took me in. I'm not experienced with any of this, but I want to be."

Her voice tapered off, and unconsciously, he turned his head towards her. She was staring back, mouth firm.

"I told you so on the first day that I want to fight what's happening. I want to fight the corruption in the government, even if it means I die."

Her eyes pierced straight into his. "And now you know everything about me." She smiled slightly before turning away the same instant as he closed the door.


	7. Lucky Number One

**Chapter 7: Lucky Number One**

They both heard the sound, simultaneously emerging from their rooms into the living room.

The front door stood open, revealing a woman with black hair and unnaturally red irises. She was young, Kagome noted, nearly the same age as herself.

The woman stepped forward and smiled, eyes lingering on her white-haired housemate.

"Sesshoumaru," she drawled, and Kagome realized with some surprise that she was addressing him by first name. "I trust you've become acquainted with the lovely lady we put you with?"

She glanced pointedly at Kagome. Kagome bit her lip and peered over at the golden-eyed man, trying to pull out any reaction.

He remained still and expressionless, but she could see the hard, almost predatory light in his eyes as he glared at the new arrival.

"Ever the loquacious man," the woman commented wryly, turning her attention to Kagome. Her lips turned up in a smirk as she slowly walked towards her.

"I'm Kagura," she greeted, extending a slender hand. "Pleasure to meet officially, Kagome Higurashi."

Kagome cautiously took the hand and shook it lightly. Kagura surveyed her with unmistakable condescension. "The League makes interesting choices sometimes. You don't appear much of a fighter."

"I'm not," Kagome admitted, feeling tremendously out of place beside this lithe, obviously capable woman.

"Not to worry, you'll receive training." Kagura moved over to Sesshoumaru. "And with him by your side, you won't have much to worry about in terms of brunt work." She smiled. "Consider it your great fortune."

Kagome watched her grasp some of Sesshoumaru's white hair and examine it critically.

"Very nice, but it simply won't work," Kagura said, dropping the lock of hair. "You're much too conspicuous; it's astonishing that you've made it out alive with this waving banner."

Indeed, waist-length hair seemed awfully impractical for a killer, Kagome reflected. But perhaps it served more of a mental than physical purpose anyways, a veil against what stood immediately before him.

"It doesn't concern you," he answered tensely.

She only smiled. "Looking conspicuous will no longer serve any purpose for you, White Assassin." Kagome's brow furrowed, glancing quickly at Sesshoumaru. An apt nickname, she thought.

Kagura continued. "Your new job requires the opposite. The staff will come by later to correct your image."

Sesshoumaru growled. "_I_decide my jobs and what's suitable." He pinned his icy glare upon the woman. She didn't so much as blink.

"No. You've _never_ decided your jobs. Your entire reputation is owed to us. And so, we may change it as we please."

Her gaze flitted over to Kagome, who had watched the interchange with a great deal of dread. "This applies to both of you," Kagura said softly, smiling. "Be prepared in one hour."

_For what? _Kagome wanted to ask. But Kagura had already slammed the door, again leaving the two of them alone.

The man near her looked more enraged than she'd ever seen him, face twisted in seething fury. Like a trapped animal, Kagome thought hopelessly.

Yet she had nothing to worry about, for with astonishing speed he returned to his room and shut the door. Heart pounding in anticipation for what would come, she walked over to the couch and picked up the manual again, reading but not comprehending.

They were prompt to the second, Kagome noted as she heard a key turn in the door, the same instant that the clock on the wall struck the hour.

Kagura entered, accompanied by two figures in black suits, one man and one woman. She shot a smile at Kagome. "Leisure reading, I see," she remarked casually, eyes studying both manual and her.

"Now, where's that Sesshoumaru?" she walked in, flanked by the two individuals who quickly closed the door.

The mentioned man materialized as summoned, face as impassive as usual with the exception of a particularly hard light in the eyes.

"Ah, I feared I'd have to drag you out," Kagura drawled lightly. "Now, do take a seat here." The suited man had pulled out one of the table chairs.

Without lifting his gaze from her, Sesshoumaru sat, stiff as steel. The uneasiness in Kagome's gut magnified about a hundredfold. This woman- she must have some significant power, to force him to do what he clearly didn't wish to.

The man pulled out a black packet from the bag he carried. Kagome sucked in a breath as he rolled it open, revealing a variety of scissors.

They really would cut his hair. The situation would almost be comical were it not for the death-cold ambience in the room. She glanced at the flowing white locks and felt it was almost a shame. They were beautiful, and despite the apparent incongruity with his job, they suited him.

The man selected a pair and clamped it around a handful. _Clip._ The hair pooled on the floor. Sesshoumaru didn't move an inch as the strands continued to fall, lock after lock.

She felt…almost bad for him. Kagome swallowed, turning away. The last thing he needed was useless observers like her. It had to be shameful, even if he didn't say a word.

Kagura had also turned away, but to face Kagome. "You're lucky that you're plain enough," she remarked idly, grabbing a piece of her black hair. "It'll do for now."

She waved to the suited woman, who had been standing off to the side.

"Injection time," she stated with an evidently grim enthusiasm. Kagome stiffened, turning her attention to the suited woman, who was digging into her briefcase.

"What injection?" she asked, eyes darting from the woman to Kagura.

Kagura sneered. "Don't worry, it's not a chemical."

The woman had pulled out a thick needle, if it could qualify as one. It looked like a metal rod, larger than any needle Kagome had ever seen. She then pulled out a small vial, containing a solid object that jiggled slightly within the tube.

"What is that?" Kagome whispered, dread beginning to wash through her. Peripherally she thought she saw a pair of golden eyes glance over.

Kagura simply motioned to the woman, who roughly grabbed Kagome's left wrist and shoved it through a metal cuff which was attached to a slab, palm side up. Her elbow was fastened next, until she couldn't move her arm.

"It's easier if you relax," Kagura stated. Kagome stared in disbelief before attempting to take a calming breath, glancing with fearful resignation at the needle. The other woman was currently wiping off an area in her underarm with an antiseptic wipe.

"It'll hurt during the injection, but nothing fatal." Kagome didn't feel the slightest bit better at the words.

"What are you putting in my arm?" she asked again, motioning with her head at the solid item in the vial, which the woman delicately removed with a tweezer. It looked like a narrow brass cylinder, smaller than a fly. The woman attached it to a narrow black plunger, which she then fitted into the needle.

"Tracking device," Kagura answered directly.

Before she had time to puzzle over it further, the needle shot into her arm. The pain was terrible, to the extent that she could feel the tearing and shoving aside of skin and flesh. Had her arm not been fastened, and had the lady not been holding her bodily down with her shoulder, she was sure she would have been thrashing about.

She almost screamed at the pain, but instead clenched her jaw, tasting rather than feeling the blood from her tongue as she bit down. And then it was over, her arm hastily covered with a bandage.

"Not so bad, eh?" Kagura grinned. The suited woman unfastened her arm.

Kagome gingerly lifted her arm as it came free. It throbbed so intently that she winced and let it rest rest aimlessly on the couch.

"What do I need this for?" she managed out.

"So we'll always know where you are," Kagura smirked. "If you get in trouble, we can come find you. Same goes for if you try to run off. A bit unorthodox, perhaps, but not unwarranted. It's modeled after those old animal study locators."

She glanced at the bandage on Kagome's arm, on which a prominent red stain had formed. "I wouldn't recommend trying to take it out. Without a professional surgeon, you'll likely rip up the veins in your arm. But don't worry, for now it's situated quite safely by the muscular tissue. It shouldn't interfere with any arm functions."

Kagura turned around. "Ah, finished? My, very nice."

Kagome turned as well, ignoring the pain in her arm.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of Sesshoumaru. Almost all of the hair was gone, leaving about an inch on the top and little less around around. Army style, she recognized, only a little longer.

Without the curtain of hair, his face stood out starkly, golden eyes peering out more intently than ever.

Frighteningly lovely, thought Kagome. She could now almost trace the light blue vein by his eye as it trailed up his temple and disappeared behind his hairline.

The women beside her had stood up. "Now, your turn at what Miss Higurashi has already undergone," Kagura drawled.

The woman had already set out the supplies, including a new needle and vial. She moved to cuff his wrist, but he snatched it away. "No need," he said coolly.

She simply nodded, and wiped off his arm. Kagome watched with uneasy anticipation as she unscrewed the vial and picked out the small transmitter device, positioning it exactly as she had earlier. Then, in one fluid movement, she stuck the metal point into his arm and pushed down the plunger.

From where she sat, Kagome saw him tense, the veins in his neck tensing. Yet though his other fist scrunched into a ball, the one belonging to his left arm remained relaxed. He made not a sound, face remaining an unmoving mask as the needle went in and out.

Impressive, to have such control over one's body. It was truly enviable.

The same bandage was placed over his arm, where blood was gently seeping from the open wound. Kagome turned away.

Kagura spoke again. "We've finished with the hard part. Next comes the fun. Do come over, Kagome."

Kagome looked over and gingerly stood from the couch, making her way to the chair they'd pulled out beside Sesshoumaru. They made eye contact for an instant, and she noted that his gaze fell to her bandaged arm.

Right. They were on the same playing field now.

Kagura smiled at them. "You're ready now for your first practical." She pulled a folder from a bag on the table. "It's extremely simple. A test of your ability to cooperate." Her gaze flitted to Kagome, who was still slightly pale from pain and dread of the future.

"You'll do the main work," she said immediately with a smile. Kagome stared up in alarm.

"Wait, I…I haven't done anything before…" she began to protest.

Kagura's hard expression silenced her. "You need the most practice, so consider this your luck in getting such a simple first assignment. And you're wonderfully mundane-looking, which is what we need." The barb was obvious, but Kagome quelled any emotional response to it. It _was _true.

She placed the folder into Kagome's hands. "Read this. The job starts tomorrow." From the bag, she pulled out a velvet box, dropping that into her lap as well.

Nervously, Kagome opened it with her right hand. On top of the velvet cushion rested a silver, oval-shaped wristwatch. She looked up quizzically.

"A digital camera, essentially," Kagura explained. "Pull out the time adjuster."

Kagome fumbled slightly as she felt for the small, circular protrusion on the side and pulled it. The watch face suddenly shifted, with a small, digital screen lighting up behind the numbers and dials. She lifted the watch out of the box, observing how the image adjusted to whatever stood behind the round face.

"Press in halfway to take a picture, all the way to replace it with the time screen," Kagura explained. "Be able to use it without any hesitation tomorrow. Shouldn't be too hard."

She smiled at Sesshoumaru. "And while your partner is taking care of this, I'll need you to incapacitate some guards in the way. Incapacitate, not kill. The building security doesn't allow for any weapons." She slid another folder into his hand. "Directions are in here. Make sure you two coordinate your timing. Failure means immediate termination."

Her smiled widened, eyes boring into Kagome's. "So don't fail."

Sesshoumaru asked the departing woman quietly, "What are you trying to get at with this?"

Kagura shrugged. "That's not for me to tell."

The front door bolted shut again.

AN: Please enjoy! Sorry for the long update period; I'm biding time between semesters right now. I do intend to complete this story, but it still has a ways to go. Thanks for reading!


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